


Worm/Jojo One-Shot Collection

by asododsteel



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asododsteel/pseuds/asododsteel
Summary: A collection of one-shot crossovers between Worm and Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Minor manga spoilers.





	1. School House Lock

Emma stepped out into the courtyard, lunch tray in hand. It was the first day back from spring break, and the weather was finally nice enough to eat outside. Emma scanned the masses of students gathered around tables and lounging against the walls, looking for anyone worth sitting with. It was a shame Sophia was out on Wards duty, or else they could have taken the time to catch up.  
  
As she thought this, her eyes fell upon a figure sitting alone under a tree. She stared at them for a few seconds, before a flicker of recognition crossed her face. **It was Taylor!(1)**  
  
Emma smiled. If there was one thing she had missed over the break, it was the chance to torment her former best friend.  
  
She approached slowly and deliberately, giving Taylor time to notice and panic accordingly. As she drew closer, she saw why it had taken so long to recognize the other girl. **Taylor had a new haircut.(2)** Her normally curly hair was clumped together, rolling down her back in long ratty tendrils. Emma wasn’t sure if this was an intentional change, or if her ex-friend was just having a bad hair day. She’d be giving her shit for it either way.  
  
Emma sauntered up to the table, hand on her hip as she loomed over Taylor like a hawk loomed over an especially depressed insect.  
  
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” she jeered. She waited for a response, but to her annoyance, Taylor didn’t look up. She merely sat there eating her lunch, as if Emma didn’t exist. **Taylor was ignoring her.(3)**  
  
Emma grimaced. Who did that loser think she was? Emma began preparing a particularly scathing insult, when she felt something cold prick against her skin. She looked up. The clouds were darkening and gathering together. **It was about to rain.(1)** The other students seemed to notice too, and began heading inside.  
  
Emma was about to turn and leave, when she noticed someone sitting in front of her. **It was Taylor!(2)** Eating lunch by herself like a loser. How had Emma not noticed her? It must have been because of **that new haircut.(3)** With that mop on her head, Taylor was just begging for a hard time.  
  
“Well, well, well.” said Emma, mockingly, ”What have we here?”  
  
Taylor didn’t respond, merely focussing on her food. **Emma was being ignored.(1)** She frowned, unwilling to be brushed off by that pathetic waste of space. She began thinking of something hurtful to say, when she felt small droplets trickle against her face. She looked up. **It was starting to rain.(2)** She had better get inside. As she finished that thought, she noticed there was someone in front of her. **It was Taylor!(3)** What was she doing out here? **And what was with that awful haircut?(1)**  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Taylor sat alone in the schoolyard, desperately wishing she was anywhere else. It was bad enough that she’d had to spend her spring break in the hospital, but now on the very day she got back, she had been blessed with the mother of all bad hair days. It was like she’d been struck by lightning after having her head shoved in a cotton candy machine. She was beginning to wonder how the day could get any worse, when she noticed Emma smugly approaching.  
  
“Don’t look at her.” Taylor thought to herself, “Don’t even acknowledge her presence. Just focus on your sandwich. Nothing exists but the sandwich.”  
  
“Well, well, well.” she heard Emma say, “What have we here?”  
  
Taylor suppressed a sigh. “At least the weather’s nice.” That was when it started to rain. The sudden downpour swept across the courtyard, prompting the other students to seek shelter inside. Taylor wished she could join them, but that meant getting past Emma. She supposed it was best to simply finish her lunch under the shade of the tree. It wasn’t like Emma’d be sticking around.  
  
As if on cue, Emma spoke up again. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”  
  
Taylor frowned. Hadn’t she already said that? Or were all these bullying attempts blurring together? Still, it wasn’t worth giving her a reaction. Taylor said nothing, merely continuing with her meal. Emma would have to lose interest eventually. That was when she heard it.  
  
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”  
  
This time Taylor looked up. There was Emma, standing in the pouring rain. She was leering at Taylor maliciously, seemingly unconcerned with her rapidly dampening hair and clothes.  
  
Fear gave way to concern. “You do know you’re getting soaked, right?” Taylor spoke up.  
  
Emma glanced down in confusion, as if she just now realized this. She glanced up, surprise blossoming on her face as if she just noticed it was raining. She looked forward, recognition flashing across her eyes as if she just remembered Taylor was there.  
  
“Well, well, well.” she smiled, water running down her face. “What have we here?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“So, wait. Why am I here?” Emma asked the Nurse.  
  
The woman let out a small sigh, then in a patient voice explained, “ **You appear to be suffering from short-term memory loss.(1)** **Your friend brought you here.(2)** ”  
  
“Which friend?”  
  
“ **Taylor Hebert.(3)** ”  
  
“Okay, first off; Taylor is not my friend.”  
  
“ **She brought you in from the pouring rain.(1)** ”  
  
“The rain? I don’t remember that.”  
  
“That’s likely because **you’re suffering from memory loss.(2)** ”  
  
“I am? Since when?”  
  
“Apparently **since this afternoon.(3)** According to your friend, **you suddenly began standing in place, repeating yourself.(1)** **We’ve contacted your father, and he should be on his way.(2)** ”  
  
“Why is my dad coming?”  
  
“ **Because you are suffering from short-term memory loss.(3)** ”  
  
“I am?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Jail House Lock](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Jail_House_Lock)」  
  
Status: Alive


	2. Surrender

The city was in chaos. There was no better word to describe it. People were running, desperate for shelter as the alarms blared. Buildings lay half crushed, their debris being dragged away by the running flood water. Rain and wind battered everything in sight.  
  
And then there was me, back against wall, about to commit suicide. I could hear the crashes and screams even above the roar of the storm. Leviathan was close. The city’s heroes and villains were giving everything they had to take the Endbringer down, but deep down inside we all knew it was in vain. Force alone wouldn’t kill the beast.  
  
That was why I, against all my better judgement, was sidling closer and closer to the fight.  
  
“ _This is a mistake_.” came the little voice in the back of my head, “ _There’s no way you can make a difference. You should run while you can._ ” I shook my head. This was my city, my home. I had to do something.  
  
As I neared the fighting, I saw what looked like a hero face down on the ground. It wasn’t the first body I had come across that day, but this one looked it was still breathing. My first instinct was to run forward and help, but I held back. I couldn’t risk activating my power, not when I was so close. Instead, I continued forward, abandoning the body.  
  
“ _You see that?_ ” said the voice, “ _Is that how you want to turn out? Is that how you want your dad to find you? A corpse, floating in the water?_ ”  
  
I ignored it, taking one shuddering step after the other, every wet footfall bringing me closer to my demise. At last, as I shuffled sideways through the broken remains of a bookstore, I saw it. The swirling, watery shield. The towering, alien form. The glowing eyes, like ghostly lanterns along the River Styx.  
  
Leviathan.  
  
The Endbringer was surrounded by the bodies of its fallen foes. Only a single opponent remained. Armsmaster, garbed in his advanced power armor, wielding two of his signature halberds, stood alone against the monstrosity.  
  
I could only watch as he was beaten into the ground.  
  
“ _Look at him!_ ” said the voice, as Armsmaster was batted left and right like a ball of yarn, “ _The strongest hero in the city, and even he can’t win against that thing. What hope do you have?_ ”  
  
The voice was right. I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t a hero. I couldn’t stand up to a monster like that. So my only choice was to fall.  
  
As the Endbringer’s tail knocked Armsmaster into the distance, I strode out of my hiding place towards the beast.  
  
“Leviathan!” I called out, a lone voice among the monsoon. The creature turned, it’s eyes on me. Only it’s eyes. Now was my chance. I whirled around, showing it my back.  
  
“ _What are you doing!_ ” cried the voice, but I ignored it, as I felt the screaming pain tear through my back. If felt like I was being ripped apart. Looking backwards, I saw that it was because I was. The ghostly frog-like being, the manifestation of my power, was being torn from my back, where it had made its home the last few months. And it was taking most of my back with it. As I watched the blood spurt, my vision began to darken. I knew, intrinsically, that it wasn’t just blood leaking out, but my very soul. I didn’t even notice I was falling until my face hit the cold, watery ground. The last thing I saw was my power, the cursed thing that had made my life a living hell, attaching itself to Leviathan. Now it was the Endbringer’s problem. All it would take was a look, a single glance by a single person, and the monster would be dead.  
  
I took solace in that, even as the last bits of life drained out of me. I wouldn’t be remembered. In a few moments I’d be a shrunken husk, a dried cicada shell washed away with the rest of the garbage. But that was okay. I didn’t need to be a hero. I didn’t need people to know my name. All that was important, all that mattered in the end, was that I was the girl who killed Leviathan.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: ???  
  
Stand:「[Cheap Trick](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Cheap_Trick)」  
  
Status: Deceased


	3. The Girl in the Mirror

Rachel trudged down the line of storage units, eyes scanning back and forth over the numbers painted on the doors. Her dogs trailed behind her, bags of money from the bank job strapped to their backs. Scowling, she glanced down at the note Brian had given her detailing where the boss wanted the loot dropped off. It would have been extremely helpful, if Rachel knew how to read.  
  
“ _Because, of course, drawing a map would’ve been too much trouble_.” she thought, irritably, “ _Giving written instructions to the illiterate girl, that’s great planning!_ ”  
  
She let out a sigh. Complaining wouldn’t solve anything. Instead, she focussed on the units ahead of her, trying to see if any of the numbers matched the one on the paper. She passed a unit, then stopped and walked back to it. This one was different; it had a mirror hanging on it. She tapped it idly. Was this some kind of signal? She looked at the unit, then back down at the note. The numbers didn’t match. Someone must have just left it there.  
  
Rachel was about to head off and continue her search, when she saw a figure standing behind her in the mirror. She whirled around, fists raised, but no one was there. She glanced back at the mirror. It was empty, save for her. Was it just her imagination?  
  
She let out a small growl. This was a waste of time. If she didn’t find the unit in the next ten minutes, she was leaving. Screw the boss; it was his fault for making the drop-off so hard to find. Turning back, she called her dogs. “Brutus, Judas, let’s go!”  
  
But there was no response. She glanced around. Her dogs were nowhere to be found. She cursed, then cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted: “Brutus! Judas! Here, boys!”  
  
“I’m afraid your little dogs won’t be coming.” came a voice behind her.  
  
She turned, and saw a scrawny man dressed in colorful sci-fi clothes. One of the videogame guys. He was standing on top of the nearest storage locker, making a ridiculous pose.  
  
“It’s just you and me.” he said, face half-hidden behind an outstretched hand.  
  
“What did you do to my dogs?” Rachel growled, her teeth bared.  
  
“Oh, I haven’t done anything to them. You see, this is all part of my-”  
  
But at that point, Rachel had stopped listening. Putting fingers up to her mouth, she let out a long, loud whistle. She waited a few seconds, during which the man attempted to resume speaking, before letting out another, louder one.  
  
“That won’t work.” said the man, “I’m trying to tell you we’re in a-”  
  
“Judas! Brutus!” Rachel yelled again, “I have treats!” She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a pocket-sized box of dog treats. She started walking back and forth, shaking the box in every direction.  
  
“For the love of- Listen!” shouted the man, “Your dogs aren’t here! They’re in the real world. Right now we, you and I, and in the mirror world. We’re the only things in the mirror world, understand?”  
  
Rachel squinted up at him briefly, before turning away. She didn’t know what he was talking about, and frankly she didn’t care. Slipping a hand inside her pocket, she felt around for her phone, only to find it empty. She glanced around, checking to see if she’d dropped it somewhere.  
  
“Looking for something?” the man teased, “I’m afraid you won’t be calling for help any time soon. Nothing can enter the mirror world but what I allow.”  
  
“Stop talking nonsense!” she said, giving him a pointed glare. “I’m finding my dogs and leaving. Don’t try to get in my way.”  
  
“You just don’t get it, do you?” said the man, shaking his head, “You are in no position to make demands. Without your mutts, you’re just a normal girl. I, on the other hand, have all the backup I need.”  
  
With a grin, he snapped his finger and a strange human-like figure appeared beside him. It was covered in patches of cloth bolted in place, with a similar patchwork hood and dark goggles hiding its face. At his command, it advanced towards Rachel.  
  
“This world is under my control!” he boasted, “And you’re not leaving until I’ve gotten what I want.”  
  
Rachel sighed. “Good grief.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Under the cover of night, Brian led the rest of the team towards the storage facility. He was worried about letting Rachel make the drop-off by herself, but Lisa assured him she could handle it. Brian had wanted to argue the point, but recognized the futility of it.  
  
After making their way through the rows of identical storage lockers, Brian was pleased to see Rachel leaning safely against the correct unit, her dogs resting at her feet. He was less pleased to see the bloody heap of a person lying crumpled on the ground next to her.  
  
“Rachel.” Brian said, raising an eyebrow at his teammate.  
  
“Hey.” she replied, giving him a nod.  
  
“Is that Leet?”  
  
She cocked her head. “Mh. So that’s his name.”  
  
Brian stepped closer. The man was badly beaten but alive. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, and his exterior was more bruise than skin. His limbs, while intact, but had been bent in a number of unnatural directions. It also looked like he had been crying.  
  
“What happened to him?”  
  
Rachel sniffed. “He pissed me off.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Leet  
  
Stand:「[Man in the Mirror](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Man_in_the_Mirror)」  
  
Status: Retired


	4. Superfly

Golem held on tight as the Dragoncraft touched down on the runway. The turbulent landing had shaken him the first time, but at this point he was used to it. It had been a single night since the Slaughterhouse Nine’s reappearance in Killington, and in the hours since, Golem had found himself shuttled up and down the country to deal with them. It was exhausting in a way he hadn’t anticipated, more mentally and emotionally than physically. Still, he kept alert as the boarding ramp descended to the ground, allowing him his first good look at his destination.  
  
He was in a small airport, somewhere in the Midwest. According to reports, the formerly deceased S9 member Breed had been spotted here an hour ago. The clone hadn’t begun killing yet, and the local police had been able to evacuate the airport and send word to the Protectorate. The nearest hero team was occupied elsewhere, so a squad of heavily armored PRT troopers were sent in to deal with the situation. That was 15 minutes ago, and so far there hadn’t been any word.  
  
Golem was ready to expect the worst, as he stepped off the ramp onto the blackish-grey asphalt. He heard the ramp closing behind him, the automated ship departing to help transport other heroes. On his own, Golem steeled his nerves and began jogging towards the entrance. As far as he could tell, the airport was deserted, cars and loading vehicles sitting empty in the early morning light. That was when he heard it, the low buzzing noise coming from the right. Golem had read Breed’s file, knew what the villain was capable of, and acted accordingly. Slamming both hands into the ground, Golem created a hard, concrete barrier directly to his right.  
  
There was a whoosh and a crack, like a small fast-moving object hitting a solid surface. Most people would have assumed it was a gunshot, but Golem knew better. Acting quickly, he shoved his foot down, creating a pillar that pushed him up into the air. He was just in time, as the wall he had formed shattered into pieces. Among the rubble, he saw it.  
  
It resembled a stag beetle, small and durable with a jet black shell and menacing red eyes. It’s wings were spread, displaying a strange blueish pattern. Unlike a beetle, however, was the elongated stinger extending from its mouth. It ended in a second xenomorph-like jaw filled with sharp gnashing teeth. Golem knew how strong that jaw was, how it could pierce through a dozen skulls with ease. It was the same appendage that had demolished his wall, and would likely do the same to him if he didn’t gain some distance.  
  
Looking down, he saw that he was falling towards a steel storage container. Reaching to his side, he pushed a hand into the steel panel of his costume, creating a ramp down the other side of the container. Bracing himself, he hit the container parallel to the roof then tumbled down the ramp to safety. He took a moment to catch his breath, before crawling right to the container’s edge.  
  
The mutant bug was among the rubble, flitting left and right. It hadn’t seen where Golem had gone, and the Ward prefered to keep it that way. Dipping his fingers into the ground, he formed ten human-width pillars around the insect. Those would keep its attention, and hopefully obstruct some of its vision.  
  
Unfortunately, the monstrous beetle didn’t seem interested in the pillars. Instead, it whirled around, directly at him. He staggered back. How had it found him? He hadn’t made any noise. As he thought this, he heard a sound behind him. It was clapping.  
  
Golem turned around, and saw a man approaching him. He was on the short side and balding slightly, but there was a malicious grin on his face. Breed.  
  
“Not bad.” said the villain, stopping a few meters from where Golem sat, “I can see why Jack was so impressed with you. He’ll be even more impressed when I return with your tongue in my hand.”  
  
Golem heard the buzzing behind him intensify. He didn’t hesitate, shoving a grasping hand into the runway. A giant concrete hand rose out of the ground, fingers closing around him. Golem allowed himself to be enveloped by the giant hand, leaving just enough space for him to move around, before shoving his other hand down, creating a second construct to cover the first. He did this again and again, adding layer over layer to what was becoming a giant spherical barrier. He knew it wouldn’t last long. Even from within his concrete cocoon, Golem could hear Breed’s mutant beetle ramming against the exterior, breaking it apart piece by piece. It was as fast as it was powerful, and Golem had no doubt it could destroy his creations faster than he could make them. And the second his hastily made shield was broken, he was as good as dead. He was trapped.  
  
Still, even in the crumbling darkness of his sanctuary turned prison, there was a ray of hope. A literal ray, peeking out of a tiny hole in the structure. Golem looked through, and saw the pillars he had made on the other side of the storage container, hidden from Breed’s sight. He saw the nearest pillar, atop which sat a large chunk of the previously destroyed wall.  
  
Golem thought. He did the math in his head. It was a stupid idea, but at the same time, almost clever in its simplicity. Even as the buzzing increased and his shield of hands crumbled around him, Golem steadied his arm, getting the angle just right, and plunged it into the ground.  
  
A shaft of asphalt burst out of the ground, striking at the top of the pillar from an angle. The chunk of rubble at the top shot off like a billiard ball, soaring over the container and out of sight.  
  
Golem heard a hefty thwack, followed by a thud. The buzzing stopped. He waited a few terrified seconds, before collapsing the front of the barrier and tentatively peeking out. He saw Breed sprawled on the ground, the shattered chunks of rubble lying around him. Next to him was the beetle, alive but unmoving. It appeared that with its master out of commission, the insect had entered a dormant state.  
  
“Nice.” said Golem, doing a small fist pump.  
  
Golem left his shelter and walked over to the body, only to find an unpleasant sight. He had miscalculated. The rock had strayed off course by a foot-and-a-half, missing Breed’s chest and instead striking him in the forehead. There was a noticeable dent in the man’s skull, and a conspicuous amount of blood leaking out. Golem thought he could just make out bits of brain matter. He grimaced. The Nine may have been monsters, but they were still people.  
  
“Sorry.” he said to no one in particular.  
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it.” came a familiar voice, “We have spares.”  
  
Golem turned around, and saw eight other Breeds walking into view. Each carried a mutant bug, toothy maws extended and slobbering.  
  
“Oh, no.” Golem winced, as buzzing filled the air.  
  
“Oh, yes!” said another one of the clones.  
  
“It was a valiant effort.” said a third.  
  
“but in the end…” said a forth.  
  
“Useless!” they all spoke simultaneously.  
  
The buzzing reached a fever pitch as the bugs rose up in unison. They shot out faster Golem than could react, charging at him with jaws extended and murder in their eyes. He braced himself for the pain of being torn apart, of razor teeth ripping into his flesh, but it never came. He opened the eyes he hadn’t realized were closed and stared. The bugs were still there, floating in place inches from his face. The Breed clones seemed just as surprised as he was, glancing at each other in confusion.  
  
“Need some help?” came a female voice.  
  
Golem looked up to see a figure in white descending from the heavens.  
  
“Weaver.” he said, relief washing over him as he watched his teammate glide into the battle with her flightpack. Far above, he could just make out the Dragonfly hanging in the sky.  
  
Weaver glanced at the cluster of Breeds, and with a nod, turned their mutant bugs back at them. The clones’ reactions were surprisingly mixed. Some ran. Some surrendered. One simply fell to his knees. It made no difference to Weaver, who sicced the beetles back at their creators. Golem averted his eyes, though the sounds of ripping and tearing told as much of a story as seeing ever could.  
  
“These things are pretty useful.” Weaver said, tickling one under its thorax. “I think I’ll hold onto them.” She fluttered down to Golem. “You okay?” she asked, the tenderness in her voice contrasting with the carnage behind her.  
  
“I’m good.” breathed Golem with a smile, “Though if you came to back me up, you were cutting it close.”  
  
“Actually, I was sent to shuttle you to the next fight.” replied Weaver, all business again, “Psychosoma’s been spotted near the Rockies, turning people into dinosaurs. We need to get over there, stat.”  
  
She grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the descending Dragoncraft. Golem sighed. It was going to be a long morning.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Breed  
  
Stand:「[Tower of Gray](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Tower_of_Gray)」  
  
Status: Deceased x9


	5. No Escape From Reality

I crept into the library, bag held protectively against my chest. It was five minutes into study hall, though given that this was Winslow, no one was actually using that time for studying. Most of the other students were on their phones or chatting with one another quietly. A part of me wanted to join them, but as it was, I had neither a phone nor anyone to chat with. Instead, I kept my head down, slinking discretely up to one of the tables to grab an empty chair. I dragged it behind the bookshelves to the lonely, unused corner of the library. Taking cover between a pillar and a row of worn Mesoamerican history books, I took a seat and pulled out an old comic book.  
  
 _Weekly Shonen Jump_ , it said on the cover. Or at least, I was pretty sure that’s what it said. I had been lent it by my Intro to Japanese teacher, who was impressed with how quickly I was picking up the language. Truth be told, I only understood about half of what was going on in the comic, but it was simple enough to piece the plot together from the pictures. From what I could tell, the story was about a muscle-bound young man raised by his single father, who was befriended by an equally muscular young man, only for that friend to turn on him and try to ruin his life. It was funny how art imitated life.  
  
I was just about to reach the end of the latest chapter, when I saw a shadow loom over me. A trio of shadows.  
  
“Oh, look who it is!” I heard an obnoxiously cutesy voice say.  
  
“What’re you doing all by yourself, Taylor?” asked a second, stronger voice, “People will think you’re antisocial.”  
  
I looked up. Sure enough, there was Emma, Sophia, and Madison, sneering down at me. How much effort did those three put into finding me?  
  
“It looks like she was busy with this.” said Emma, snatching the book out of my hands. “Jeez, what language is this? Korean?”  
  
“It’s Japanese.” I muttered defensively, bubbles of indignation rising in my chest.  
  
“Wow, Taylor!” exclaimed Madison, “Who knew you were such a weeb!”  
  
Sophia gave her a look, “Madison, no slurs. Remember?”  
  
“No, _weeb_. Short for weaboo.” explained Madison, “It’s like the western equivalent of an otaku. Someone obsessed with Japanese media without any actual knowledge about the history or culture.”  
  
Emma turned to her. “Why do you know that?”  
  
While she was distracted, I reached up to take back the book, only for Sophia to grab my arm.  
  
“Oh, no you don’t!” she snapped, squeezing just roughly enough to hurt, “You need to learn your place.”  
  
As she said this, I heard the running of feet, and a voice ringing out.  
  
“That’s enough!” Both Sophia and I turned to look at a well dressed young man coming our way. “Give that book back to her!”  
  
“What, you this geek’s friend or something?” asked Emma.  
  
“No!” he said, “But I won’t let you bully her!” With that he rammed into Emma full speed, knocking her to the ground.  
  
“What the fuck?” exclaimed Sophia, letting go of my arm. She rounded on the boy, tearing him away from Emma and delivering a solid punch to the face. “The fuck’s your problem?”  
  
The boy didn’t respond, instead rushing towards her with a flurry of punches. She quickly shifted to the side, using the opportunity to bring both her fists down on his head. He fell to his knees, trembling.  
  
“Stay down, you creep!” Sophia spat.  
  
He grunted and, with a shaky hand, reached into his shirt pocket for a hankerchief. As he dabbed at his bloody nose, I noticed the name sewn into the cloth: “Jonathan Joestar”.  
  
Wait, wasn’t that-? I glanced at the cover of the comic book lying forgotten on the ground. To my astonishment, the two characters on the front were gone, erased from the page. Was I seeing things? I reached out to the boy, but he slapped my hand away.  
  
“Forget about me!” he said, “Go somewhere else! I didn’t get into this fight because I wanted your attention!” He rose, ignoring Sophia, and straightened his jacket. “It’s because I’m going to become a gentleman! Gentlemen don’t just sit and do nothing when a lady needs help! They must have the courage to help those in need! Even if they are at a disadvantage!”  
  
I stared at him. “Are you real?” I had definitely heard that speech before. It was the one Jonathan Joestar had made in the story. But if this was really Jonathan, then did that make me-?”  
  
“So, this is why Jojo’s been so happy lately?” From the shadows, a handsome young man with blonde hair and a sinister smile stepped into view. Before I could react, he grabbed me and pulled me into full open-mouth kiss. My eyes went wide; he tasted like fig tart and booze. The boy held the kiss for but a moment, then as quickly as he had grasped me, let me go. I stumbled backwards into the bookshelf, too shocked for words. From her sprawled position on the ground, Emma looked just as surprised as I was.  
  
The boy grinned down at me arrogantly. “So…” he said, “Have you and Jojo kissed yet?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’ll take that as a no. You thought your first kiss would be Jojo,” He jabbed a finger at himself, “But it was me, Dio!”  
  
Madison, who was helping Emma, paused and looked up, “Was that a reference to something?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Bohemian Rhapsody](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Bohemian_Rhapsody)」  
  
Status: Confused


	6. The Firefly

In the midnight hour, on an unlit street, an imposing figure spoke to a crowd. Lung, the most powerful villain in Brockton Bay, stood before his men, delivering a magnificent speech. They hung on his every word, eager to be filled with direction and purpose. There was a hard fight ahead of them, and Lung knew they would make him proud. They didn’t have a choice in the matter.  
  
As Lung inspired his followers, painting with words the grandeur of battle, he heard behind him the sound of tiny footfalls. They were small and rapid, like the scurrying of a rodent. He paid it no mind; there was orating to do. He was just about to get to the part about killing children, a.k.a. the best part, when he felt a sudden sharp pain at his side. He looked down, just in time to see the flash of a blade and the splash of his own blood.  
  
Furious at being interrupted, Lung lashed out at his unseen attacker. As his flames lit up the night, he saw a small figure tumble out of the darkness. It appeared to be a young girl, covered head to toe in black clothing. She let out a yelp of surprise and dashed away towards a nearby alley.  
  
Lung glanced down at his injury. The cut was wide but shallow, small beads of blood poking out but not yet flowing. It was times like this that Lung wished he wore a shirt. Still, his regeneration was already kicking in, the parted flesh knitting itself back together as sharp metal scales began growing out of his skin. His transformation had begun.  
  
Lung looked up, and was displeased to see his men still standing in shock. “After her!” he shouted, jabbing a flaming finger at the retreating figure. Despite their flaws, Lung had to hand it to his minions; they were quick to obey orders. The men drew their weapons and charged at the attacker. As the girl rounded the corner, out of sight, the crowd of gangsters followed, flooding into the alley.  
  
There was a pause, the sound of confused muttering, then a crash. Lung watched as a lone tire bounced out of the alleyway.  
  
Heat and irritation building, he stomped over to the mouth of the alley. Inside were his men, laying in a crushed pile under the weight of a rusted pickup truck. Lung’s anger exploded at the sight. Feeling the draconic strength flow through him, he grabbed the end of the truck, and with a powerful grunt, tried to lift it off his men. He felt the pain shoot up his arms, the muscles tearing as they tried to support too much too soon. Something was wrong. He shouldn’t’ve been having this much trouble.  
  
As he struggled to move the truck, he heard it again. The sound of little feet. This time he turned, just in time to see a tiny figure race out of the alley. It was the girl, dressed the same as before, but now barely the size of a doll. She had shrunk.  
  
Lung dropped the truck and whirled about to release a deluge of flames. It swept across the ground, leaving no room to escape. He kept the fire going, roasting the alley’s entrance until he was sure the girl was dead. After a few moments, he cut off the flames, stepping forward to examine the charred corpse of his attacker. All he found, however, was the burnt remains of a ballpoint pen, jammed into a crack in the pavement.  
  
Lung growled. Someone was fucking with him, and it was making him mad. He could already feel his shoulders widening, his neck elongating, his skull shifting under the mask. He charged out of the alley, intent on finding his prey. His burning gaze swept across the darkened street, but it looked almost the same as before. Almost. Something was off, but he didn’t have time to consider it.  
  
“Where are you?!”, he roared, his booming voice shaking the very air. There was no response, and as the echoes of his clamor waned, so did his patience. Lung closed his eyes, focusing on his surroundings, allowing his enhanced senses to expand. He heard it, faint but present, the rapid beating of the girl’s heart.  
  
Lung turned, and saw that it was coming from behind a large sedan. Not holding anything back, Lung unleashed an inferno at the car, engulfing it entirely. There was a cry, and Lung saw his miniature opponent leap out of cover. She rolled to the center of the street, rapidly returning to normal size. Lung grinned and lunged for her.  
  
The girl saw him approach, and instead of running, produced from her pocket a small white object. She flicked it up at Lung, and before he could react, something large and heavy fell onto his back. He groaned, the massive object crushing his body and forcing him to the ground.  
  
He sprawled there, on his hands and knees, just barely supporting the weight. His muscles and bones howled in pain, but he endured it. This was nothing he couldn’t heal from. Instead, he took a breath, tapping into the burning inner heat. His scales bristled, his breathing distorted, his shoulders shifted to accommodate two batlike wings. Lung mustered all his anger, his ferocity, his unparalleled strength, and gave a mighty shove. The object failed to move.  
  
What could possibly be this heavy? Lung twisted his long neck to see what was holding him. He could make out a smooth leather exterior. He recognized the soft cushions. The adjustable footrest. The lightly burned upholstery.  
  
It was a lounge chair. It was _his_ lounge chair. She was crushing him with his own La-Z-boy!  
  
Lung turned and snarled, his mouth too altered to form words. The girl merely stood there, towering high above his prone form. A little too high. She had not been that tall before. Could she make herself big as well as small? No, that wasn’t right. The cars and buildings next to her were all to scale, looming huge from his perspective. And his strength; it should have been more than enough to move the armchair, especially this far into his transformation.  
  
The realization hit him like a luxury sofa. She had shrunk him. Slowly. So slowly he hadn’t noticed. His transformation would have countered it at first, but that had diminishing returns. Now he was past the breaking point, decreasing in size faster than he could grow.  
  
Lung didn’t have long to bemoan the fact. The weight on top of him was growing. Or rather, he was shrinking, growing weaker with every passing second. He wanted to scream, to roar, to break free and burn this entire street to ash. Instead, he could only lie there, trapped, as his strength faded and he slowly lost consciousness.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
The street was deserted when Armsmaster arrived on the scene. He’d received reports that Lung was gathering his forces around here, when a fight broke out. Judging by the scorch marks on the ground, they had been correct. He switched to thermal vision, searching for any sign of life. He found one, crouching in a nearby alley.  
  
It was a teenage girl, dressed all in black, a bag slung over her shoulder. “Um, hello.” she said, noticing his approach.  
  
“Evening.” replied Armsmaster, “The villain Lung has been spotted in the area. Have you seen him?”  
  
The girl hesitated, before answering slowly, “No.”  
  
She was lying. Armsmaster pressed on, “Is he still here?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Another lie. The Protectorate leader frowned, “I’d advise you not to lie to me a third time. Where is Lung?”  
  
The girl sighed, before lowering the bag and zipping it open. Inside, among a clutter of miniature objects, was a glass jar. She reluctantly lifted it up to the hero. Armsmaster leaned forward to exam it. Inside was what looked like a tiny glowing insect, flitting harmlessly against the lid. The glass was blurry, but he made out four wings, six legs, silver scales, and an elongated neck. The bug droned at him angrily, releasing tiny flashes of light. When he listened carefully, it almost sounded like a roar.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Little Feet](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Little_Feet)」  
  
Status: Alive


	7. Shine On

Amy hated her job. To the world she was Panacea, the miracle healer, the girl who could cure anything. They didn’t know what it took from her; what she was forced to do day after day.  
  
Amy’s mom was a skilled lawyer and expert in PR. She kept the particulars of Amy’s power a secret from the public, hidden behind charitable donations and non-disclosure agreements. It wouldn’t do for her to embarrass the family.  
  
Because of this, none of Amy’s patients ever expected the true cost of her healing; what she had to do to them. The worst were the children, scared and innocent, looking up at her with bright trusting eyes. They believed in her, in her ability to take away the pain. It broke her heart every time.  
  
Today was no different. A man was being flown in from California. Chemotherapy hadn’t worked, and she was his last hope. They wheeled him into the specially soundproofed room the hospital provided her. He was big and muscular, though his condition had taken a lot out of him, his skin pale and scalp bare. A hospital gown wouldn’t be necessary, so he was dressed normally in jeans, t-shirt, and a leather jacket.  
  
Amy approached him. “Hello sir, how are you feeling today?”  
  
“Okay.” he replied soberly, “Still in a bit of pain, but I’m enduring it.”  
  
She looked to the nurse accompanying him. “Has he signed all the requisite forms?” Amy received a nod, then turned back to the patient. “And do you consent to me healing you?”  
  
“I do.” the man said. His face was serious, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He clearly hadn’t read the fine print.  
  
“Very well, then let’s begin. Are you able to stand?”  
  
“I believe so.” he grunted, and with the nurse’s assistance, slowly rose out of the chair.  
  
“Alright. I’ll just need you to lean forward a little... A bit more... That’s perfect.”  
  
Amy took a breath, getting into position. She hated this part.  
  
“Okay, now I’m going to count down from 5, 4, 3-”  
  
Amy attacked. Rushing forward, she slammed her fist into the man’s face.  
  
“Dorrraaa!” she yelled, the punch making contact with her patient’s jaw, pulverizing it and sending him flying across the room. He fell to the ground with a mighty thud, head encircled by a halo of blood and broken teeth.  
  
He stared up at her in shock and disbelief, unaware of the faint yellow aura enveloping him. Even as he lay there, the man’s teeth flew back into place. The surrounding blood flowed back into his split lip, the wound sealing itself up like magic. Color and vitality returned to his body.  
  
“What the hell?” he yelped, renewed vigor in his voice.  
  
“How are you feeling now?” Amy asked.  
  
“I’m- I…” he paused, taking stock. “I’m not in any pain.” he said, realization sinking in. “I don’t feel weak or tired. Am I-”  
  
“Cured? Yes.” She nodded to the nurse, who helped the bewildered man back into the chair, before wheeling him towards the door.  
  
“Take care.” Amy called with a small wave. The man didn’t thank her. They rarely did. Sometimes she wondered what she did to deserve a power like this. One that could only help by hurting. It certainly wasn’t a heroic ability.  
  
She stepped over to the wall and pressed a finger to the intercom.  
  
“Finished.” she said in a tired voice. “Who’s next?”  
  
A staff member responded: “Next is a pair of twins suffering from a severe respiratory disorder. Both six months old.”  
  
Amy closed her eyes and let out a deep, deep moan. She _really_ hated her job.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
In the bowels of the Birdcage, Spruce knocked on a door.  
  
“Come in.” came his boss’s voice.  
  
He stepped inside to find Marquise, fingers steepled, leaning against his desk.  
  
“I’ve found one, Sir.” he said, placing forward an object.  
  
It was a vintage Polaroid Sun 670 Autofocus camera, something very hard to come by in the impenetrable prison that was their home.  
  
The former warlord raised his head and examined the camera.  
  
“Splendid,” he practically purred, “Exactly what I need.” He loomed over the table, raised a fist, and with a mighty slam, smashed the camera into pieces. Spruce watched impassively as his boss shook bits of glass and metal off his hand.  
  
“Does that hurt?” he asked, more out of curiosity than concern.  
  
“Every time.” replied Marquise, staring at the debris. Out of the wreckage popped a photograph, dark and still developing. Slowly, under the villain’s careful gaze, the image formed. Marquise saw his daughter, now a teenager, punching out a skinhead over twice her size.  
  
He smiled.  
  
“That’s my girl.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Amy Dallon  
  
Stand:「[Crazy Diamond](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Crazy_Diamond)」  
  
Status: Suffering


	8. No Escape From Reality 2

“I think we can all agree, this is Taylor’s fault.” Emma griped to her two cronies.  
  
We’d made enough of a ruckus in the Library to attract the attention of a faculty member. They saw Emma on the ground, Jonathan bleeding from the nose, and Sophia ready to throw down, and had come to the obvious conclusion. Now the six of us were stewing miserably in the cramped detention room.  
  
I say us because, despite being only a passive observer in all of this, I had gotten written up as well. Hooray for zero-tolerance. I say six because, despite all logic and rationality, Jonathan Joestar and Dio Brando were here too. Two comic book characters, ripped straight out of the front page and plopped into my life. They were sitting on either side of me, my presence the only thing stopping them from going at each other like stray cats in an alley.  
  
Jonathan seemed to have heard Emma’s comment, as he rose into a galant stance.  
  
“I don’t see how you can blame this girl.” he spoke up, eager to defend my honor, “You three were the ones bullying her!”  
  
Dio shook his head. “Well, well. Jojo the Snitch strikes again.”  
  
“Don’t call me a snitch!” Jonathan cried, shooting his rival a heated glare.  
  
“We’re not the ones at fault here.” said Sophia, “There’s nothing wrong with a little ribbing between classmates. You’re the asshole that came out of nowhere and tackled my friend like a maniac. If anything, you’re the bully, attacking people for nothing.”  
  
“It’s the responsibility of every gentlemen to defend maidens in peril.” Jonathan responded proudly.  
  
“Newsflash, jackass. We’re all girls too.”  
  
Jonathan paused at that, a sheepish expression coming over his face.  
  
Beside me, I could see Dio relishing in his embarrassment.  
  
“Don’t look so smug.” I said. “You’re in the worst trouble out of all of us. Forcing a kiss on someone without their consent, that’s assault.”  
  
Dio grinned, flashing his too-white teeth, “Don’t pretend you didn’t love it.”  
  
“Yeah!” called Madison from across the room, “It’s not like you’re getting any other action in your life. Enjoy it while you can, slut!”  
  
I turned to her. “Wait, are you ridiculing me for my lack of sexual experience, or for being a slut?”  
  
She took a moment to considered this. “Yes.”  
  
Dio laughed. “I must say, Jojo. You sure know how to pick them.”  
  
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Jonathan replied defiantly, “I possess no untoward intentions for this lady. I’m merely fulfilling my duty as a g-”  
  
“Yes, yes. A gentleman. We get it.” Dio gave a dismissive wave. “Do the world a favor and give that chivalric rubbish a rest. You’re not impressing anyone.”  
  
“Spoken like someone with no sense of honor. I’ll have you know that I am following in the example set by my father, and by his father before him.”  
  
“A rather poor example, if you are any indication.”  
  
“You take that back!”  
  
“Oh? And who’s going to make me?”  
  
“Enough!” I snapped, caught between the two bickering schoolboys. I leaned forward, whispering just loudly enough for them to hear. “Seriously. I am losing my mind here, having to listen to this. I don’t know what kind of conflict you guys have with each other; I’ll admit I may have only skimmed that part; but for the love of God, do you have to drag me into it?”  
  
“I don’t understand.” Jonathan spoke softly, “I thought you were the one who brought us here.”  
  
“Why would you think that?”  
  
“I mean, the last thing I remember was being back home enjoying a lovely spring day. Then I heard your cries of peril, and suddenly I was in that library, running to your rescue.”  
  
“Same.” added Dio begrudgingly, “I was in my study, enjoying a good book, when I got the sudden sense that Jojo was feeling good about himself. I couldn’t have that, and next thing I knew, there you were.”  
  
Jonathan gave him a pained look. “Must you always seek my suffering so ardently?”  
  
“It is my ambrosia. Even gods must eat.”  
  
“You are unbelievable.”  
  
“I suppose some things are simply beyond your feeble comprehension.”  
  
Before Jonathan could respond, I cut in, “He’s obviously trying to get a rise out of you. Why give him the satisfaction?”  
  
“He’s slandering my good name. Am I just supposed to say nothing?”  
  
“Yes. What he wants is a reaction, so don’t give him one.”  
  
“Yeah, Jojo.” teased Dio, “Don’t be so easily provoked.”  
  
“And you,” I said, turning to glare at him, “Stop constantly antagonizing people. It’s annoying.”  
  
Dio gave me a dark look. “I’m sorry, since when were you the boss of me?”  
  
“I brought you here, supposedly. Doesn’t that mean you have to do what I say? Follow my orders, or whatever?”  
  
“Orders? Just who do you think you are, wench?” He rose from his chair with a condescending sneer. “I’m Dio _fucking_ Brando, and I do as I please!” With that, crossed the room and took a seat next to the trio.  
  
“Excuse me!” said Emma, “I don’t recall saying you could sit with us.”  
  
“I don’t recall asking.” replied Dio. “If you don’t like it, move.”  
  
“We’re not sitting over with Taylor and her loser friend.”  
  
“Then it appears we are at an impasse, for I am unwilling to further associate with Jojo and his foolish companion.”  
  
“First of all, fuck you, we were here first.” said Sophia, “Second of all, what’s your beef with this Jojo guy anyway?”  
  
“I beg your pardon? My _beef_?”  
  
“She means what’s your problem with him?” said Madison.  
  
“There’s no problem.” explained Dio, “He is weak and I am strong. It is only natural that I do all in my power to crush him under my boot.”  
  
Emma’s eyebrows rose imperceptibly. “You mean like you’re a predator and he’s your prey?”  
  
Dio cocked his head. “An odd metaphor, but yes.”  
  
Emma and Sophia exchanged looks.  
  
“You know, the three of us were planning on going shopping later.” said Emma, “How’d you like to come along?”  
  
The boy scowled, “That sounds horrid.” There was a pause. “Shopping for what, exactly?”  
  
“Clothes, makeup, accessories. That sort of thing.”  
  
Dio’s lips pursed ever so slightly. “Hmm. I suppose I have time to ‘come along’, as you put it. If only to observe.”  
  
I stared at them, dumbfounded. The most evil human being on the planet was going clothes shopping, and Dio was accompanying her. That wouldn’t end well. Still, as bizarre a picture as that painted, it wasn’t even the worst of my troubles. I glanced down at the comic, at the big white splotches on the front. Looking closely, I felt a bit of terror creeping up my spine. The two boys weren’t the only things missing from the cover.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
A young man skulked cluelessly through the library. He had a presentation on Aztec history coming up, and the Dewey Decimal System was not his friend. He was just about to give up, when his foot caught on something. He fell forward, landing on his face and letting out a low moan as something warm trickled down his nose. Raising himself up to his elbows, he looked back to see what had tripped him.  
  
Greg Veder frowned, “Is that… a mask?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Bohemian Rhapsody](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Bohemian_Rhapsody)」  
  
Status: Still Pretty Confused


	9. Ferry Tale

“So, whaddya think Hebert?”  
  
Gerry gestured to the rusted hull of what could charitably be called a boat.  
  
I cocked an eyebrow. “Is it seaworthy?”  
  
“Of course, of course. Just slap on a fresh coat of paint, give it a tune up here and there, and you’ll have the finest little ship in the bay.”  
  
“And it’s safe, right? To sail?”  
  
“I mean, define safe? You can never be completely secure, what with Endbringers, hurricanes and the like.”  
  
“But it floats?”  
  
The large man looked offended. “Yes, of course it floats.” He scratched his beard, “In a manner of speaking.”  
  
My gaze shifted between him and the boat skeptically. On the one hand, I could sense that the engine was half corroded, the deck was waterlogged, and that the radio and navigation equipment had long since been stolen. On the other hand, there was no reason to be picky. All I needed was something within my price range that wouldn’t sink the moment I got it into open water. Besides, Gerry needed the money. Word through the grapevine was that he was considering working for Über and Leet. I wasn’t about to criticize someone for trying to feed their family, but the less manpower those villains had the better.  
  
My thoughts wandered as I looked across the wreckage that was the boat graveyard. Villains. Theft. Urban decay. These were all symptoms of a much larger disease. If I wanted to save this city, I’d have to combat its problems at the source. I turned to Gerry and offered my hand.  
  
“I’ll take it.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“Mr.Mayor, your 2 o’clock is here.” The secretary turned away from the intercom, beckoning me towards Mayor Christner’s door. He glanced up at me as I entered his office.  
  
“Oh, it’s you again,” the mayor said. Not out of contempt or annoyance, merely an observation.  
  
“Good afternoon.” I greeted professionally, “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”  
  
He gave a blunt nod. “If this is about the ferry, I’m afraid we still don’t have the budget for-”  
  
I held up a hand. “There’s no need to worry about that.” I placed a manila folder on his desk. “We’ve found an alternate source of funding.”  
  
He opened up the folder questioningly. Inside were pictures of the boat. The mayor’s eyes widened.  
  
“What is this?”  
  
“Brockton Bay’s new ferry.” I said confidently.  
  
He looked at me. “Are you serious?”  
  
“Perfectly. As you can see, I’ve provided all the necessary documentation.” I gestured to the proof of insurance and bill of sale.  
  
A look of disbelief passed over his face. “How could you possibly afford something like this?”  
  
A small smile played across my lips. “We’ve been in contact with an... unnamed third party, who’ve helped us acquire a brand new vessel.”  
  
“An anonymous benefactor? We don’t get many of those these days.” The mayor frowned and looked back down at the photos. “This is all highly unusual.”  
  
“I wouldn’t think so. The ferry once acted as a vital player in the city’s economy. I’d imagine quite a number of wealthy individuals in the city would have a vested interest in supporting local infrastructure.”  
  
Mayor Christner glanced up at me, doubt in his eyes. “It seems like you have everything figured out here. What do you want from me?”  
  
I let my smile widen. “Well, now that we’ve solved the budgeting problem, we need your help in fast-tracking the permit process. Tourist season’s coming up, and we want to get the ferry system up and running as soon as possible.”  
  
The mention of tourism and the extra income it would bring seemed to catch his attention. He nodded in understanding.  
  
“Very well, I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
It was early morning as I shakily stepped onto the boat. The safety inspectors were coming by around noon, and to say I was nervous would be an extraordinary understatement. This was the last major obstacle to getting the ferry up and running, and there could be no mistakes. I cast a glance at the half-rotting skeleton I was currently boarding. It wouldn’t be winning any awards in its current state; but that’s why I was there.  
  
Walking up to the helm, I laid my hands on the battered metal wheel and closed my eyes. I focussed, feeling the power flow down my arms and into the boat. In a matter of seconds, it began to change. The old, rusted exterior expanded, growing into a sleek and shiny hull. The tattered benches transformed and multiplied, becoming rows and rows of soft cushioned seats, enough for thousands of passengers. The belly of the boat opened up, becoming a large bay for cars and cargo to be stored. Where once was a small decrepit fishing boat, there was now a grand functional ship, hundreds of feet in length.  
  
I stood in what was once the cramped, leaky wheelhouse; now a clean and spacious bridge. It gave a clear view of the bay and was filled with all manner of state-of-the-art equipment. Most of it wouldn’t be needed. I could steer the ship with but a thought, each and every part of it entirely under my control. I wouldn’t have to worry about fuel or maintenance, or even a crew. The ferry would provide everything I needed, outside of food. And even that could be delivered on a regular basis. I’d need it to, if I were to run the ship.  
  
That was, in a way, the one downside to this situation. The ship would only stay like this so long as I was on it. If I got too far, it would turn back into the tiny broken-down fishing boat. That meant I would have to command the ship for the entirety of its operation. The old ferry used to run 24 hours a day; however, that was with multiple captains taking shifts. I probably wouldn’t be able to manage that without killing myself. Instead, I planned on having nightly “maintenance” breaks during the off-peak hours. That would allow me just enough sleep to function.  
  
It wouldn’t be easy, managing each voyage day after day, month after month; but I’d endure it. If nothing else, I could at least make myself comfortable. The ship had every convenience one would expect of a ferry, from running water and electricity to internet access. And with my power, I could make my quarters as large and luxurious as I wanted, so long as it matched with the rest of the boat. It’d be a gilded cage, one of my own design. I’d be bound to it, both captain and prisoner. Still, if that was the burden of saving the city, it was one I was all too willing to bear.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
It was finally here. The day of the ferry’s reopening. In a few hours, the dock would be packed, crowds watching in excitement as Mayor Christner cut the red ribbon and ushered in a new era for the city.  
  
I walked down the wooden stairway leading to the dock, the ferry’s gangplank laying open for me. There was a melancholy feeling in my chest, as I took what would possibly be my last steps on dry land. I was all but ready to board, when I saw her. She was running towards me, the note I’d left clenched in her hand.  
  
“Dad!” Taylor cried. She ran up to me, stopping right at the bottom step.  
  
I gave a sad smile, “Hey, kiddo.”  
  
“What the hell is this all about? Why do you have to move out?”  
  
I felt the urge to kneel down to speak to her, but at the angle we were standing, her eyes were level with mine. Instead, I placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Honey, I know this is sudden, but they need me here to run the ferry. It’s something so many of us have worked towards for such a long time.”  
  
“But why you? Why can’t someone else do it?”  
  
I faltered. “That’s… a hard thing to explain. It’s strange and complicated, but this is something only I can do. The city needs this.”  
  
“What about what I need? The docks are your responsibility, I get that, but so is your daughter.”  
  
“Taylor, I know this is unfair, and maybe even a bit cruel, but this is bigger than you and me. I promise, once the ferry’s up and running, things will get so much better. There’ll be more jobs, less poverty, it’ll be safe to walk in the street. And with all the extra money coming in, we won’t have to worry about finances or paying for your college. We could afford to get a new car, or fix up the house. Heck, we could move to a big new house in a nicer, safer neighborhood.”  
  
“You mean I could move.” She turned away, not meeting my eyes, “You’d be with the boat.”  
  
“Oh, Pumpkin, I didn’t mean it like that. I won’t be here all the time. I’ll be able to come home on federal holidays, or when the weather’s too bad to sail. Plus Kurt and Lacey promised to stop in and look after you every now and again.”  
  
“That’s not the same and you know it. You’d be here, living your dream, and I’d be alone.”  
  
“That’s- You-” I sighed. She wasn’t wrong. This had always been my goal, my mission. I acted like it was some great sacrifice, but really, she was the one who was giving up the most. I leaned forward, trying to look her in the eye. “You’re right. This isn’t fair to you, no matter how I try to justify it. I wish I could be here for you, like I’m supposed to, like you deserve, but there’s no other way. I have to do this.”  
  
She looked back at me. “You couldn’t have told me any of this in person?”  
  
“I didn’t know how to. There’s so much I don’t know how to explain. There’s so much I don’t even understand. You’ve been so distant lately, and I guess I just figured you didn’t need me.”  
  
“Of course I need you!” she said, tears welling up in her eyes, “I’ve always needed you. I’m- I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.”  
  
I began to choke up. “Please, Taylor, don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. It’s mine. I should have talked to you about this. I’m a father first, everything else second.”  
  
She shook her head. “No, this is important to you. To everyone. You love this city, and I shouldn’t make you choose between it and me.”  
  
“I’ll always choose you,” I sobbed, “Every time!”  
  
I stepped forward, pulling her into a hug. She froze for half a second, then hugged me back. We stood there, father and daughter, crying in each other’s arms. Minutes past, the wind, waves, and our tears the only sounds.  
  
“I just wish I could go with you.” she said, finally.  
  
“I know Sweetie, but-” I paused. I opened my eyes. “Huh.”  
  
I was so busy avoiding the problem, I hadn’t considered that. There was plenty of room on the ship for her, and there was no law against raising a teenager on a boat.  
  
“I mean… We’d need to move all of your stuff on board. And have someone watch over the house. And you’d probably have to be homeschooled.”  
  
Taylor looked up at me, dead serious. “Dad, I would _love_ to never have to go to Winslow again.”  
  
“Are you sure? You wouldn’t be able to see your friends.”  
  
Amidst the tears, a strange smile blossomed on her face. “I have no friends.” she snorted, “I’ve been bullied for years!”  
  
I looked at her in shock, “But what about Emma?”  
  
She laughed, happier than I’d seen her in a long time. “Emma’s the one who’s been bullying me!”  
  
I knew I shouldn’t have, but her laughter was infectious, and I found myself smirking at the absurdity of it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell _me_ we could’ve moved to a fucking boat?”  
  
We stood there, laughing hysterically. Together.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Danny Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Strength](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Strength)」  
  
Status: Happy


	10. Only a Paper Moon

It was a peaceful afternoon in the secret hideout of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Bonesaw stood in the dining room, arms deep in her latest project. She was humming merrily to herself, blissfully unaware of the paper airplane sailing in from the open window. It glided past the lounging forms of Burnscar and Shatterbird, dipping low before rising into a gentle landing on the dining room table. Bonesaw paused in her work and glanced at it.  
  
“Hm?” She wiped the blood off her hands and picked up the airplane. “What’s this?”  
  
It was made of regular notebook paper, expertly folded by someone who clearly had much experience in the endeavor. There appeared to be writing on the inside. Curious, Bonesaw unfolded it. “Sesame Honey Cafe”, it read.  
  
Bonesaw giggled to herself, “What a funny thing to write.”  
  
Just then, she felt a hand on her shoulder. “What’s that you have there?”  
  
Bonesaw whirled around to see an unfamiliar woman beside her, staring down with a scary expressing. Bonesaw didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a capsule from her pocket, crushing it and blowing the released dust into the woman’s face. The unknown woman flinched briefly, before freezing, the paralytic toxin taking hold.  
  
“Goodness!” exclaimed Bonesaw, “How on Earth did you get in here?” She drew a scalpel, “Jack won’t be happy about this one bit.”  
  
Before she could start cutting, there was a shout. “Bonesaw! What are you doing?”  
  
Bonesaw turned to see a second intruder. She was standing by the couch, hands clenched into fists.  
  
“Another one?” noted Bonesaw, “How odd.” She made a gesture, and her swarm of mechanical spiders sprung to life, surging towards the newcomer.  
  
The woman lashed out, jets of fire bursting from her hands and consuming the spiders one after another. Fortunately, the metal constructs were resistant to fire; and for every one that was destroyed, two more took its place. They swarmed around the woman, targeting her most vulnerable spots. Before they could strike, however, she disappeared, leaving only a scorched crater in the rug.  
  
Bonesaw tilted her head in confusion, only to shriek as something grabbed her and forced her to the ground. Looking up, she saw the woman, one hand holding her to the floor, the other cradling a hot flame dangerously close to her face. There was a moment of tense silence, both capes staring each other down. It was interrupted by the sound of stomping. Bonesaw turned her head just in time to see a huge dinosaur-like creature lurch into the room.  
  
“What’s with all the racket?” it asked with a yawn, “I was in the middle of my nap.” It paused, dozens of eyes surveying the scene. It began to approach. “Guys! What the f-” There was a crunch. The beast looked down, raising its paw to see what it had stepped on. It was a crumpled paper airplane. The creature raised its head, looking at the two capes in confusion. It growled.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
The sun had just begun to set when Jack Slash and Cherish returned to the hideout. The smell of smoke and burnt flesh was the first sign that something was wrong. That the front door had been blasted off its hinges, was the second.  
  
“That can’t be good.” Jack muttered. He and Cherish stepped forward to peek into the room.  
  
To say the hideout had been destroyed would be inaccurate. Jack knew destruction, it was his craft, and he would never dare sully the word by missappying it. Still, the place was a wreck.  
  
The furniture that wasn’t crushed was splattered with blood. Ash, broken glass, and spider bits littered the floor, as pools of acid slowly dripped into the apartment below. And _someone’s_ corpse was stinking up the rug.  
  
Cherish quirked an eyebrow. “Well, there goes our security deposit.”  
  
“Not the time, Cherish.” Jack admonished, sliding forward to examine the curiously Crawler-shaped hole in the wall. As he did so, he heard a strange crinkling sound.  
  
Glancing down, Jack saw that he had stepped on something. Frowning, he bent forward and picked it up.  
  
“What’s the ‘Sesame Honey Cafe’?”   
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Aisha Laborn  
  
Stand:「[Paper Moon King](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Paper_Moon_King)」  
  
Status: Unseen


	11. Cinderella Story

“You look like you could use a makeover!”  
  
Emma stopped and glared at the young woman who’d walked up to her. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Sorry,” the woman backpedaled, “What I meant to say is, our beauty salon is having its grand opening, and you look like someone who’d be interested.” She sheepishly held out a flyer. Emma glanced at it dismissively.  
  
_Cinderella Salon_ , it read at the top, “ _Get the face you deserve_ ”. On the bottom was a coupon for a free facial.  
  
Emma shrugged and took the flyer. “Thanks.” she said in a disinterested tone. It had been a long day, she supposed a trip to the salon couldn’t hurt. As Emma walked away, she failed to notice the small smile slip onto the young woman’s face.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Emma was not impressed. The flyer had depicted a grand, classy-looking salon, with marble floors, exotic plants and tasteful watercolor decor. The storefront she was looking at was decidedly less captivating. Plain white walls, barebones counters, and a single potted plant. She would have thought the place was out of business, if it wasn’t for the flickering “OPEN” sign in the window.  
  
“ _I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this._ ” she thought, studying the facade. It may have been foolish to judge a book by its cover; but where beauty was involved, appearances were everything. Disdainfully, she turned to leave, only to nearly collide with the person behind her.  
  
“Ah! I beg your pardon.” came a voice.  
  
Emma stepped back with a huff, a curse on the tip of her tongue, only to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The woman was tall and slender, with soft skin that almost seemed to glow, and lustrous blonde hair that complimented rather than contrasted with her Asian features. She gave Emma a long, curious look, a gentle smile touching her full lips.  
  
“Oh, sorry.” Emma said, caught off guard, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”  
  
“Not a problem.” the woman replied, smile widening, “Are you here for the salon?”  
  
“Actually-”  
  
“I do apologize for the meager appearance. Our decorator canceled at the last minute, and I was so anticipating the grand opening that I couldn’t bear to delay it a single day.”  
  
“You work here?”  
  
“Ah, yes! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aya Tsuji. I’m the owner and head aesthetician.” She stepped closer. “I see you have our flyer. That photo at the top is from our main salon in Paris.”  
  
Emma raised an eyebrow, “Paris, Frace?”  
  
“Of course. We also have locations in London and Milan. I’ve been wanting to open a parlor in the States for so long now, however, and this city seemed the perfect place.”  
  
“Brockton Bay? Not somewhere more glamorous like New York?”  
  
The woman waved a hand. “Every beautician tries to set up shop in New York. This city, on the other hand, seemed more like a diamond in the rough. Somewhere my work can really shine.”  
  
Emma found herself nodding along. She wasn’t sure why, but there was something strangely charismatic about this woman.  
  
“Now, I assume you’re here for the facial treatment?”  
  
“Uh, sure.” Emma replied. She supposed there was no harm in a quick touch up, especially after coming all this way. She followed the woman inside.  
  
The interior was just as drab close-up as it was through the window, but Aya’s presence seemed to fill it, like a projector lighting up a blank screen. She led Emma down a hallway and past a pink curtain to a small room in the back. Positioned against the wall was a single spa chair, flanked on both sides by shelves of beauty supplies.  
  
“If you’ll just lie down here.” she said, smiling sweetly.  
  
Emma settled into the chair, making herself comfortable. She’d been through enough beauty treatments to know the routine. She watched idly as the aesthetician dimmed the lights, turned on soft music, and slipped a pair of gloves over her delicate fingers.  
  
The woman approached. “Now, let us begin.”  
  
Her fingers danced over Emma’s face, tracing paths around her eyes, nose, and mouth.  
  
“You have such smooth skin,” said Aya. “Do you moisturize?”  
  
“Every day.” replied Emma, “I’m actually a part-time model.”  
  
“Ah, I can see why. You have such lovely features.”  
  
Emma felt a glint of satisfaction at that. She didn’t consider herself vain, but it was always nice to be reminded how attractive she was.  
  
The beautician reached for a dark bottle of oil, and after pouring a small caramel-colored drop into her hand, began massaging it into Emma’s face. It felt warm against her skin, and she could already feel the tension in her body disappear. She’d had a lot of beauty treatments before, and they hadn’t been anywhere near as relaxing.  
  
“This special oil both exfoliates and keeps the skin looking bright and healthy.” Aya explained in her lulling voice. Emma let out a sigh, luxuriating in the treatment. Diamond in the rough had been an appropriate metaphor; despite the salon’s sorry appearance, this woman clearly knew what she was doing. As the massage let off, Emma saw the beautician bring out a clear jar of grayish green paste. Emma drew in a breath as Aya applied the cool, thick substance to her face.  
  
“This hybrid gel/clay mask draws out impurities and hydrates your pores.”  
  
The weight of the mask was oddly soothing. Emma felt so calm. So safe. The dim lights. The quiet music. The comforting sensation of skin against skin. She never wanted it to end, it was all so relaxing. She felt her thoughts drifting, her eyelids growing heavy. Emma closed her eyes.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“Emma! I’m leaving for work.” Emma jolted awake as her Dad’s voice filtered in from behind the door. “Have a great day at school, sweetie!”  
  
She tried to reply, but all that came out was a gurgled yawn. Rubbing her eyes, she gave a tired glance around. She was in bed, curled up in her heaviest blankets. The blinds were drawn, her room blanketed in shadow. For some reason, her vision was blurry.  
  
What happened last night? She remembered walking down the boardwalk, going to the salon, getting a facial done. She had vague memories of coming home and collapsing into bed. Was that all? It seemed like there was something she was missing.  
  
Stretching briefly, she tried to climb out of bed, only to stumble. Her center of balance was off. Steadying herself, she took a step forward, only to feel the crack of something underfoot. She couldn’t make it out in the blurry darkness, but after pawing around the ground, her hand fell upon a pair of glasses, one of the lenses cracked.  
  
“ _Where’d these come from?_ ” she thought, looking them back and forth. As she examined them, she saw that the view was a bit clearer in the unbroken lens. Experimentally, she placed the glasses on her face, and the room came into focus.  
  
“ _What the hell?_ ” She took the glasses off, and the room immediately became blurry again. A bit of panic started to rise in her chest. She’d never needed glasses, her vision was always perfect. Had the facial messed up her eyesight? Was this permanent? Emma’s head started to spin; she needed a glass of water.  
  
Stumbling into the bathroom, she turned on the light, only to gasp at what she saw. Right there, staring at her in the mirror, was Taylor Hebert. Her lanky former-friend gaped back at her. Emma took a step back, only for the mirror Taylor to do the same.  
  
“What-” Emma began, only to cover her mouth in shock. The voice that had come out wasn’t her own.  
  
She turned to run, and nearly hit her head on the doorframe. It was lower than before. No, she was taller. She grabbed a clump of her hair. Her lustrous red locks were now black and curly. Emma glanced down at her body. She gave a low moan.  
  
“ _This can’t be happening!_ ” she thought, “ _I can’t be Taylor!_ ” It was her worst nightmare made real.  
  
A feeling of menace gripped her heart. This had to be some kind of cape bullshit. Sophia would know what to do. Emma made for the door, then stopped. She couldn’t let Sophia see her like this. She couldn’t let anyone see her. The humiliation would be impossible to live down. She glanced backwards at the mirror, at the frail form of Taylor cowering in the dark. No. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a victim. She had to do something, or else she’d be stuck this way.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Emma walked up the steps of Winslow, a large hoodie pulled over her head. Normally, the school was her territory, a miniature kingdom where she was the queen. Now it felt cold and foreboding to her, like a vast ocean teeming with sharks.  
  
Emma steeled herself. If she could just get to Sophia without attracting attention, everything would be fine. She’d convince Sophia of her identity, Sophia would get the PRT involved, and everything would be fixed.  
  
Still, it was disturbing walking the halls in Taylor’s shoes. The students that didn’t outright ignore her either averted their eyes or snickered as she walked past. She suddenly felt very self-conscious about the broken glasses. It shouldn’t have mattered, they weren’t her glasses, this wasn’t _her_ body, but the anxiety and embarrassment clung to her all the same.  
  
She passed a pair of girls she considered her friends. Her first instinct was to greet them, but the moment they saw her they began whispering to one another. Emma lowered her head and kept going, only to gasp as someone stuck out their leg to trip her. She stumbled forward, just barely stopping herself from falling on her face. Down on her hands and knees, she heard a few scattered pockets of laughter. Was this what it was like on the bottom rung? How did Taylor live like this?  
  
Getting to her feet, ignoring the jeers of her fellow students, Emma made up her mind. The moment she got her body back, she’d change her ways. She’d use every resource, devote every second, do everything in her power to stay as hot and popular as possible. She never wanted to leave the top of the social hierarchy again.  
  
As she thought this, a sound reached her ears; the sweetest sound she thought she’d ever hear. It was a voice. Sophia’s voice. Emma saw her, rounding the corner up ahead. Emma ran forward, overjoyed to see a friendly face. Before she could reach her friend, however, she saw something that made her freeze in her tracks. Red hair. Stylish clothes. A face and body made for modeling. It was her, Emma Barnes, walking and laughing with Sophia.  
  
Emma stood there, stunned. The other Emma spotted her and smiled.  
  
“Well, look who it is.” the doppelganger sneered, “Nice glasses, Taylor.”  
  
Sophia turned her head and snorted, “Guess she couldn’t bear seeing herself in the mirror anymore.”  
  
Emma knew the barbs weren’t really directed at her, but it still hurt to see her friend like this, turned against her by this imposter.  
  
“Get away from her, Sophia!” she cried, jabbing a finger at the fake Emma, “That’s not me!”  
  
Sophia furrowed her brow. “The fuck are you talking about?”  
  
“That’s not the real Emma! I am! This bitch stole my body!”  
  
The other Emma gave an odd look, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god!  
she said, “It’s finally happened. She’s finally cracked.”  
  
“Or finally became a crackhead.” grinned Sophia, “Like she wasn’t already pathetic enough.”  
  
“No, you don’t understand!” Emma ran up to her, frantic. “Please, Sophia. You have to believe me.” She placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “You’re my best friend.”  
  
“Get off me!” Sophia barked, pushing Emma away with more force than necessary. Emma fell back on her butt. She sat there for a moment, staring in disbelief, before the shock of the rejection wore off and tears started to well up in her eyes.  
  
Sophia looked down at her in disgust. “You’ve got problems, Hebert.”  
  
She marched away, leaving Emma to stew in her own misery. The other Emma swiftly followed, but not before giving a little wave.  
  
“Later Taylor. Try not to cry yourself to sleep for a straight week.”  
  
Emma took a few seconds to process this, before looking up at the retreating figure.  
  
“Taylor?” she whispered. No one else would have known to say that. Was this _her_ doing? Had she somehow switched their bodies? It was the only explanation, but what could she do about it? Sophia didn’t believe her, and Taylor knew enough about Emma’s life to fool even her best friend. She had nowhere else to turn.  
  
That’s when it hit her. The woman at the salon. This all started after Emma’s visit there. Maybe she would know how to turn her back. It was a slim chance; but at this point, what other option did she have?  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Emma jogged down the boardwalk, heading towards where she remembered the salon being. She didn’t slow down for anything, even as she nearly ran into a dozen different shoppers. This was far too important. Her pulse quickened as the building came into view. Emma broke out into a run, not caring who saw her. It was only as she reached the window, that she felt her heart sink. The salon was gone. What had once been a meager facade, was now an empty storefront. No lights, no decorations, not even that dinky potted plant. It was like it had never been there in the first place. Emma tried the door, but it was locked.  
  
“Hello.” she called, banging on the glass, “Hello!”  
  
There was no answer. It was a dead end.  
  
Emma slumped against the door, frustration and despair taking hold. What was she going to do? She couldn’t go on like this. She’d worked so hard to become the beautiful, confident person she was today, only to have it all taken from her and given to some worthless loser. How was that fair? She slammed her fist into the glass, but only succeeded in hurting her hand. Rage building, she whirled around and delivered an impulsive kick to the glass door. This left a crack, small but visible.  
  
Emma let out a sigh of satisfaction. It seemed that even with Taylor’s weak chicken bones, she was still strong enough to break this shoddy, low-quality glass. Gritting her teeth, she began furiously kicking the door again and again, taking out all her frustrations on the empty storefront. By the time she had calmed down, a large chunk of the glass door had crumbled into pieces.  
  
She heard voices. Glancing back, she saw people staring at her and whispering to one another. One woman had her phone out, no doubt recording everything. Emma didn’t care. So long as she had Taylor’s face, her former-friend would take the blame. Assuming Emma got her body back. If she didn’t, it didn’t really matter what happened to her.  
  
Ignoring the pain in her foot, Emma climbed through the hole into the building. The lights were off, shrouding the salon in darkness, but Emma could make out just enough to limp her way down the hall to the back room. Gripping the pink curtain, she threw it open, revealing the small room. The spa chair was gone, as were the shelves of beauty products. All that remained was a small, pink box, sitting in the middle of the floor.  
  
Emma stood there a moment, breath held, not blinking. She could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, but didn’t particularly care. Aya had left her this box, she just knew it. There were answers inside. There had to be. Quietly, carefully, Emma stepped over, kneeling down to open the box. She lifted the lid, staring down into its contents. Staring back, was the face of Aya Tsuji.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: ~~Taylor Hebert~~ Emma Barnes  
  
Stand:「[Cinderella](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Cinderella)」  
  
Status: Beautiful


	12. Taylor Shoots a Toddler

“How about it Weaver? A nice fair fight. My knife verses your gun.”  
  
Jack Slash grinned wickedly. In one hand he held a long, bloodstained knife. In the other, Golem’s little sister. Behind him stood his army of Slaughterhouse clones. Hundreds of monsters at the peak of their power. I stood alone, armed with nothing but a simple handgun. Looking between Jack and the crying Aster, I knew this was it. The moment that would decide everything. If I killed Jack here and now, the end of the world would be averted.  
  
I raised my gun, then hesitated. What if this was a mistake? Jack was clearly baiting me, he must’ve had something up his sleeve.  
  
Was it Aster? He knew he was responsible for ending the world, was it through her?  
  
She was third-generation, more likely to trigger than most. Did he think me shooting him would cause her to trigger, to gain a power too great for her to control? Perhaps one strong enough to end the world? There was no way to know.  
  
That’s when I saw it. A flickering image, like a shadow, hovering behind the wailing toddler. She had already triggered.  
  
I fired. Aim perfect, my bullet flew straight into Aster’s head, killing her instantly. Jack dropped her in surprise.  
  
“Well,” he said, “that was rude.”  
  
With that, he flourished his knife, raising it high before slashing down towards me.  
  
I threw myself out of the way, rolling to dodge the attack. But it never came. There was a clang; and I turned to see the knife skidding across the ground. Jack stared at the weapon, then at the hand that had held it. There, engulfing his fingers, was a strange pinkish-purple growth. It pulsed, growing and spreading across his hand.  
  
“What the devil?” exclaimed Jack. He drew a knife with his other hand, and began stabbing at the protrusion. The sharp blade plunged into the stretchy flesh, but was unable to damage it, only sinking deeper into its depths. Jack tried to pull it away, but the blob burst out, grabbing onto the knife with a gooey tentacle.  
  
“Ack!” yelped Jack, as his weapon was engulfed. He released the knife, before the blob could spread to his other hand, and drew a large cleaver from his belt. Not hesitating a second, Jack brought the heavy blade down on his own hand, cutting it off at the wrist. There was a spurt of blood as the hand went flying, before Jack’s internal Tinkertech blocked off the veins.  
  
The whole room watched in stunned silence as the hand was consumed by the blob. It began to pulse and quiver, golden eyes and a striped shell rising out of the slime. It bobbed in place, its metal eyes seeming to stare at the injured Jack Slash.  
  
Jack swiftly backed away, only for the blob to leap after him. It latched onto his leg, digging into his skin. Jack slashed frantically with the cleaver, his power carving large slices out its flesh, only for the wounds to seal themselves back together. His violent movements seemed to agitate the creature, as part of it flew up and grabbed his waving arm. It continued to crawl across his body, spreading up his leg and down his arm towards his chest.  
  
“Help!” he screamed at the other Nine, “Get this thing off me!”  
  
A Burnscar stepped forward, flames dancing around her fingers as she released a jet of concentrated fire at the blob. The fleshy surface quivered in response to the flames, but did not appear harmed. If anything, it seemed to grow larger, absorbing the energy of Burnscar’s attack.  
  
The blob continued to spread, swallowing Jack’s arms and legs. Disarmed, Jack could do nothing but scream as the gooey mass surged up his chest and engulfed his head. The whole room watched him struggle against the tide of flesh, until his voice faded away and his limbs grew limp. And then, just like that, Jack Slash was gone.  
  
There was a moment of silence, before all hell broke loose.  
  
The room exploded into chaos, bullets and blades and bursts of acid filling the air as a hundred murderous capes attacked at once. The blob withstood it all, grabbing projectiles out of the air, growing bigger and bigger as it absorbed wave after wave of damage.  
  
A Cherish clone was the first to turn tail, breaking away from the crowd to make her escape. The blob launched itself at her, moving like lightning despite its bulk. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it. One second Cherish was there, the next she was gone, the huge blob swallowing her whole. Things only broke down from there.  
  
The more reckless of the Nine charged, some with weapons, others with only their brute strength. They all were consumed, one after the other.  
  
I watched the carnage, caught between fear and bewilderment. This was it. The trigger that ended everything. A being that couldn’t be killed, that couldn’t be reasoned with. A force of nature that devoured and devoured until it swallowed the world. I had worked so hard, sacrificed so much to stop the coming apocalypse, only to end up causing it. There was a cruel irony here, one I didn’t have time to appreciate.  
  
I crept away slowly, watching carefully as the blob devoured Jack’s army one cape at a time. I had to make it back to the entrance, shut off the portal. That was the only way to stop it; to trap it here in subspace, before it could escape into the outside world. If I was lucky, it would be too busy destroying the Nine to notice me.  
  
Unfortunately, luck didn’t appear on my side. As I made my way down the hall, tracking the Nine with my bugs, I could feel their numbers dwindling. The blob had grown to massive proportions, able to overpower even the Crawlers and Siberians. I had to move quickly. I broke out into a run, sprinting towards the computer lab.  
  
“Defiant!” I shouted over the comms, “Open the portal and get everyone through. We have to evacuate, now!”  
  
“On it.” he replied.  
  
“What’s going on, Weaver?” came Golem’s voice, “Is the pocket dimension breaking down?”  
  
“We can only hope as much.”  
  
As I said this, I felt a disturbance. Something was moving through the facility in my direction, killing the bugs I had left there. It was the blob. It had finished with the Nine, and was coming after me.  
  
I hightailed it, running so hard it hurt. Turning a corner, I could see the portal ahead of me, its gentle glow promising safety. I activated my flightpack, using the last of its fuel to give myself a desperate boost. There was a crash behind me, the sound of something big and destructive gaining. I ignored it, focusing only on the movement of my feet as I closed the distance to the portal. I was only feet away, when I felt a tug, something gripping onto my flightpack. I didn’t stop. Releasing a latch, I disconnected the straps, abandoning the flightpack and diving headfirst into the portal.  
  
There was a flash, then a jolt as I skidded against the metal floor of the Dragonfly.  
  
“Close it!” I shouted at Defiant, fiddling with his remote. The words had scarcely left my mouth before he flipped a switch and the glowing portal winked out of existence. I let out a sigh of relief, though if came out as more of a heave. I didn’t know my heart could beat this fast.  
  
“Are you okay?” asked Golem.  
  
“Think so.” I replied between breaths, “That was a _very_ close call.”  
  
“And what about Aster?”  
  
I rose to my feet, looking him in the eye. “Dead.”  
  
Golem went still.  
  
“Jack too.” I said, as if it were any kind of consolation.  
  
He nodded, unable to say a word. I could only imagine the thoughts going through his head. Did he blame me, for not being able to save her? I know I did. Still, that was something to lose sleep about later. For now, we had done it. There were some heavy losses, but we had managed to avert the end.  
  
As I thought this, Defiant tapped me on my shoulder. He pointed down.  
  
“Weaver, what’s that on your leg?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Aster Anders  
  
Stand:「[Notorious B.I.G](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Notorious_B.I.G)」  
  
Status: Deceased


	13. No Escape From Reality 3

“Okay, let’s go through this again.”  
  
Jonathan and I were in the Library, reviewing the events of the day.  
  
“Emma takes the book from me, I reach for it, Sophia stops me, and you come running to my rescue.”  
  
“Sounds about right.” replied Jonathan.  
  
“Next, you and Sophia start fighting, you get bloodied, I recognize you from the book, then Dio appears and kisses me.”  
  
“The cur!”  
  
“So what’s the common factor here?”  
  
“You being in distress?”  
  
I shook my head. “I’ve been in distress for almost two years now, and nothing like _this_ has ever happened before.”  
  
“In that case…” his head shifted, and I turned to follow it. Both our gazes fell on the comic book, propped up on a nearby shelf. He reached forward and picked it up. “This must be a magic book!”  
  
I crossed my arms. “I suppose that makes sense. Or at least, as much sense as anything else today.”  
  
He handed it to me, excitedly. “Try to make something else!”  
  
Nodding, I began skimming through the pages. There was so much to choose from. Giant robots. Magical knights. Post-apocalyptic musclemen. My vision lingered on the image of a man exploding after being poked in the face. Perhaps it was best to stick with what I knew. I flipped over to Jonathan’s story, landing on a scene of him playing with his dog. That’d work.  
  
Closing my eyes, I placed a palm over the page and imagined the dog moving, leaping out of the comic, becoming real. After a few silent seconds, I began to feel very silly. That’s when I heard it. The shuffle of padded feet. The huff of excited breathing.  
  
“Danny!” Jonathan cried with joy. I opened my eyes to see him embracing a big white and black dog. “I missed you, boy.”  
  
“Holy shit.” I said, “It actually worked.”  
  
I took a few steps forward. Sure enough, it was a living, breathing dog; the same one that had been in the book. And I had brought it here.  
  
“This is too much power.” I muttered.  
  
Jonathan looked up. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Creating living beings from nothing. That’s just… too much.”  
  
“You didn’t make him.” Jonathan laughed, scratching Danny behind the ears, “You just brought him from one place to another.”  
  
I looked at him. Did he not understand that he was from a comic book, not the real world? Or did he not see the difference?  
  
I turned back to the book. Those were questions for another time. I had bigger concerns. The mask. It’s absence from the book meant that I had accidentally summoned it into reality. To say that was trouble was like saying Dio was a bit misbehaved. I had to make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.  
  
“Jonathan, you didn’t happen to see a stone mask anywhere around here, did you? Like the one that was hanging in your mansion?”  
  
“My mother’s old mask? No, why?”  
  
Right, this was young Jonathan. He didn’t know anything about the mask. About the horrors it could create.  
  
I turned to him. “You, Dio, and Danny all appeared here in this library. By that logic, the mask should have appeared here too. The fact that it’s not here means that someone must have found it.”  
  
“Are you worried they’ll damage it?”  
  
“I’m worried they’ll put it on.”  
  
“And that’d be bad?”  
  
“Very.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Maybe if we’re lucky, the janitor will find it and toss it into the incinerator.”  
  
The dog yelped.  
  
“Oh, no I didn’t mean you Danny.”  
  
“I think he’s found something.” said Jonathan, kneeling by his pet. The dog was sniffing furiously at a patch of the carpet. Jonathan leaned closer. “It looks like… blood.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Greg Veder held up the mask.  
  
“Wow.” he said, “how did this get here?”  
  
It was light and made of stone, a fanged visage on the front.  
  
“Creepy.” Greg muttered, staring into the empty eyeholes. Just then, an idea came to him. The mask looked vaguely Aztec; he could use it for his presentation. Curious, he slowly raised the mask to his face, only to stop. There was something dripping from his nose. He dabbed at it with a finger. Blood. He must have banged it when he fell.  
  
Hastily slipping the mask into his bag, Greg dug out a pack of tissues from his pocket. He fumbled a bit with the packaging, before grabbing a couple and stuffing them up his nose.  
  
“ _That was close_ ,” he thought, nostrils plugged up, “ _I almost got blood on my new mask._ ”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“Blood?” I asked, “Are you sure?”  
  
“Pretty sure.” replied Jonathan, “He wouldn’t bark otherwise. Danny’s a very smart dog. He can even peel grapes.”  
  
“That’s not important. If there’s blood then-” I paused, “Wait, really? Grapes?”  
  
“Yep. He can also open doors.”  
  
“Doors I can understand, but how does he-” I shook my head, “Focus! We need to track down whoever has the mask, fast. Could Danny sniff them out?”  
  
“He’s not a bloodhound but, assuming they’re close, probably. Why, are they in danger?”  
  
“No, but if we’re too late, everyone else could be.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
The class watched in various states of disinterest as Greg shuffled nervously through his flashcards.  
  
“And, uh, the Aztecs were also known for their advances in t-timekeeping.” he stammered, “Most famously in their calendars which, um, as I’m sure you all know, end in 2012. So that’ll be a thing to look forward to next year.” He gave a nervous laugh, painfully aware of how little anyone seemed to care. He was running out of material.  
  
“ _Darn it!_ ” he thought, “ _I spent hours working on these flashcards. They should’ve at least last me 10 minutes._ ”  
  
Sweat dripping down his neck, he decided to use his last resort.  
  
“And also, there are those who believe that the Aztecs took part in human sacrifices. Tributes were brought before an altar and made to wear a stone mask. Like this!” He pulled the mask out of his bag, holding it up for the whole class to see.  
  
Not a single person looked interested. From the corner of his eye, Greg could see the teacher frown and make a note in her clipboard.  
  
Greg’s mouth ran dry. He was making a fool of himself. Worse, he was probably failing the assignment while doing so. Anxiety building, he began to notice something red drip down from his face. His nose was bleeding again. _In front of the entire class_.  
  
“Uh, uh, let me demonstrate!” Panicking, he shoved the mask onto his face.  
  
Time seemed to slow. The moment the mask made contact, bone-like spines speared out into Greg’s head. There was a flash of unearthly light, as Greg began screaming. He fell to the ground, arms waving, legs thrashing this way and that.  
  
The class watched, unimpressed. A few rolled their eyes. The teacher glanced at her watch.  
  
Someone muttered under their breath, “Spaz.”  
  
Greg flailed about for a number of seconds before, just as suddenly as he had started, he fell silent, his body going limp on the floor.  
  
The teacher stood, clearing her throat. “Thank you, Greg, for… that. We’re just about out of time so remember to-”  
  
Her words were cut off by the sound of the lunch bell. Students rose and began streaming out of the classroom, stepping around Greg’s prone form. Laying there, he felt his senses expanding. He could smell the blood under their skin, hear the beating of their hearts. It made him thirsty. So very thirsty.  
  
“Come on!” he heard someone call, “It’s Frenchbread Pizza Friday!”  
  
Greg sat up. Thirst could wait, there was pizza.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“Oh, try this on!”  
  
“I refuse.”  
  
“Come on, just try it.” Emma pushed a bundle of clothes into Dio’s hands. “Trust me, they’re so you.”  
  
“I don’t need your coddling.” Dio insisted, “I am perfectly capable of selecting my own clothing.”  
  
“Oh? Like that coat with the ostrich feathers?” questioned Sophia.  
  
“It was elegant.”  
  
“It was tacky.” said Emma, pushing Dio towards the dressing rooms, “And that’s not even getting into the whole scarf and suspenders combo. On what planet is that in vogue?”  
  
“Maybe he was going for that coveted Steve Urkel look.” Sophia quipped.  
  
“I don’t know who that is, but I am offended nonetheless.” Dio said, “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”  
  
“No.” said Emma, “You came to buy clothes. So quit your bitching and try some on!” With that, she all but shoved him into a stall. “And don’t come out until you’re done.” she ordered, shutting the door.  
  
“Fuck you!” he grunted back, to Emma and Sophia’s laughter.  
  
A ways away, Madison skulked. She wasn’t sure about this new guy. Sure he was handsome enough, and gave as good as he got in the smack-talk department. But there was just something off about him. Like his complete astonishment at the existence of cell phones, or the way he’d wax poetically about the power of automobiles, or how he asked the first Asian person they encountered if she knew where to buy “oriental medicine”. No, there was something more than that. There was something oddly familiar about him that set Madison on edge. Maybe it was how ridiculously buff the guy was. It was like he walked straight out of _Fist of the North Star_ , not that Madison would ever admit to watching that old show. Or reading the manga. Or scouring the web for pre-Kyushu figurines. God, it was a shame what happened to the anime industry. She let out a sigh, wishing not for the first time that she’d been born a decade or two earlier.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Dio examined himself in the mirror, scrutinizing his new outfit. Emma had chosen a tight black tank top for him to wear. It clung to his chest like a second skin, highlighting every pectoral in exquisite detail. This was paired with a flamboyant gold and green jacket and matching pants, the colors complimenting his hair and eyes. He hated to admit it, but it was a good look.  
  
“This is… acceptable.” he stated, stepped out of the dressing room  
  
The two girls stared at him like a hungry dog stared at a piece of meat. On the one hand, he disliked being objectified. On the other, it was nice to receive a reminder of his physical perfection. He decided to throw his new companions a bone, moving to execute a particularly vivacious pose. His chest muscles rippled with the exertion, visible through the sheer material of his shirt.  
  
“Damn!” exclaimed Sophia, “Pretty Boy cleans up nicely.”  
  
“Now you see why you need us?” grinned Emma, “It’s not easy being gorgeous.”  
  
“You’ve broadened my horizons, I’ll give you that.” Dio conceded, “Though I draw the line at the jumper.” He glared at the turtlenecked monstrosity one of the lascivious schoolgirls had tried to push on him. He wouldn’t be caught dead in that shade of blue.  
  
Emma stepped forward, circling Dio like a shark. “It’s good, but there’s still something missing.”  
  
Sophia smirked, “Like what? A headband?”  
  
Emma snapped her fingers. “A belt. Green to go with the jacket.” She grabbed Sophia. “Don’t move, we’ll be back.”  
  
As they hurried off, Dio couldn’t help but grin. Despite how annoying they were, these girls were amusing. He supposed he wouldn’t mind spending more time with them. Not out of any sense of friendship, of course. They were merely a novelty, their antics entertainment. It wasn’t as if he liked them or anything.  
  
Gazing across the store, Dio noticed the short one staring at him from among the cosmetics. She wasn’t like the other two. They had a strength about them, as meager as it was. This girl was merely a hanger-on, a weakling leeching off her betters. It would be cruel of Dio not to show this parasite her place.  
  
He marched towards her, drawing himself up to his full glorious stature.  
  
She went stiff at his approach. “Oh, uh, Dio. That’s a nice jacket.” she squeaked.  
  
“Of course it is.” he stated coldly, “I’m the one wearing it.”  
  
She nodded dumbly, clearly unaware of how to act in his presence.  
  
He faked a kind expression. “I must say, I’m rather impressed with you.”  
  
She perked up. “Really?”  
  
He nodded. “Yes, very. It takes quite a lot of courage to consistently hang around where you’re not wanted.”  
  
Her face fell. “What do you mean.”  
  
“Why, Emma and Sophia were just talking about it, how glad they were that I decided to tag along. Now that they finally found someone else on their level, they don’t need you as a placeholder anymore.”  
  
The girl frowned, hands balling up into fists. “That’s a shitty thing to say to someone you just met.”  
  
“I wouldn’t think so. After all, wouldn’t you rather hear this from a stranger than the ones discarding you?”  
  
“Don’t talk about my friends, you jerk. You don’t know them like I do.”  
  
“I know that they value strength. Ferocity. The will to dominate others. Do you really think they’d get that from a pipsqueak like you?”  
  
The girl flinched. “Shut up! You’re nothing but a liar and an asshole.”  
  
“I’m only saying this because it’s true. Because it’s inevitable. Really, you should be thanking me for softening the blow like this.”  
  
“Y-your wrong. Sophia and Emma are my friends. They wouldn’t just abandon me.”  
  
“Heh. Whatever you say, Magdalene.”  
  
“It’s Madison!” she cried.  
  
Dio sneered. “Like I care what your name is.”  
  
Hurt and embarrassment flooded the girl’s face, and she scurried away, no doubt to cry in a corner.  
  
Dio chuckled to himself. It felt good to tear others down. He took a moment to revel in his satisfaction, when something caught his eye. It was one of the tubes of lipstick open for demonstration. He picked it up, examining the dark glossy color. Glancing around, Dio saw that no one was watching. He supposed it couldn’t hurt just to try.  
  
Slowly, with a steady hand, Dio coated his lips a deep emerald green. He looked in the mirror, studying the magnificent man staring back at him. This felt... right.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Bohemian Rhapsody](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Bohemian_Rhapsody)」  
  
Status: Concerned


	14. The Girl in the Mirror 2

Rachel shut her eyes in contentment as she strolled down the boardwalk, enjoying the sun on her face and breeze at her back. It was a beautiful day for a walk. Angelica seemed to think so too, her tail wagging happily as she took in all the interesting sights and smells. It was times like this that Rachel wondered why she even had anger issues.  
  
“Oho! What have we here?” came a shrill voice.  
  
“ _Oh, right_.” she thought.  
  
She sighed and opened her eyes to see the strangely dressed man from before. The one that liked video games. He was standing across from her, sunblock on his nose, a bucket of arcade tickets tucked under his arm.  
  
“So we meet again!” he declared, pointing at her with his free hand.  
  
“Yeah, uh.” Rachel nodded slowly, “Leek, right?”  
  
“It’s Leet!”  
  
“I don’t care.”  
  
“Well you should; for I have not been idle since our last encounter. I have been plotting. Planning. Scheming even! All for the aim of exacting righteous vengeance. Both my powers and my mind have grown far beyond what they were before. You will regret the day you-”  
  
Rachel kept walking, passing him without a word.  
  
“Hey! What are you doing?” he shouted after her. “I was just getting to the important part!”  
  
She stopped and looked back at him. “I don’t care. Whatever it is. Whatever you have to say. I do not give a fuck. Just let me enjoy my beach day, and I won’t turn you into a puddle of manmeat.”  
  
Leet flinched, caught himself, then let out a chuckle. “Such bold words, for someone about to be trapped: **in the mirror world!** ”   
  
He pressed a button on his wrist and his chestplate opened up, revealing a large, three-piece mirror. Bright sunlight reflected off the surface onto Rachel’s face. The instant she saw her reflection, she vanished.  
  
“Haha!” boasted Leet, “I’ve learned my lesson from last time. You may have bested me before, but that was only because I’d sent us both to the mirror world. Now I’m out of your reach. You’re in there and I’m out here!”  
  
It took Leet a few seconds to realize that Rachel couldn’t hear him, and that he was essentially talking to the air.  
  
He shuffled in place awkwardly for a moment, waiting for the chestplate to close back up, before turning and making his leave. He was stopped, however, as Angelica plodded into his path. The small dog stared at him accusingly, no doubt concerned about her disappeared owner. Leet was unafraid. Without her master, she was just an ordinary dog.  
  
“Out of my way, mutt!” barked Leet, kicking the terrier roughly aside.  
  
Angelica staggered back, then growled. As she did so, the air around them seemed to shake. Particles of sand began rising up from the surrounding dunes, floating like a cloud around Angelica. The sand coalesced behind the tiny dog; growing as more and more mass poured in from the beach. Leet could only stare in disbelief as a being began to take shape.  
  
Long legs. Wheels. A metal body with white and red feathers growing out of the head. The construct looked like a cross between a car and some kind of large canine. It growled at him with its fanged mouth, intentions clear.  
  
Leet whimpered and frantically began clicking the button on his wrist. This time, however, the chest piece refused to open. He hastily looked down at the mechanism, only to see that the hinges were clogged up with sand. Before he could attempt to clean them out, he felt a shadow drape over him.  
  
He gulped and looked up. “Heh. Nice doggy?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Rachel shielded her eyes from the sun as she examined her prison. It was eerily similar to the boardwalk she was just standing in, but silent and empty. Gone was the rushing of the waves and the gentle whirring of the breeze. The shops and kiosks stood deserted, as did the umbrellas and beach blankets in the distance. It was like a museum display, but without the pane of glass connecting it to the real world.  
  
Rachel stood there a moment, taking in the vast emptiness. She stood a bit longer. She scratched her chin.  
  
“ _Well,_ ” she thought, “ _I’m bored_.”  
  
Just then, there was an explosion of sand to her right; like a large, human-shaped object being slammed into the dunes.  
  
“ _And that would be Angelica_.”   
  
Paw-like pillars of sand burst up from the beach, knocking an unseen object about like an invisible beach ball.  
  
Stepping a distance away, Rachel settled down into the sand, making herself comfortable. Angelica could take care of things from here.  
  
As she listened to the chaos, Rachel allowed herself a small grin. “ _Shame that Leek trapped me in here. Were I out there with Angelica, I’d have been able to hold her back._ ”   
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Angelica  
  
Stand:「[The Fool](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/The_Fool)」  
  
Status: Good Dog


	15. Tower of Gray

The villain known as Butcher hefted up her Gatling gun, wind and rain battering her face as she prepared to mow down the pack of mutant dogs charging at her. She grit her teeth.  
  
The day had started off so well for her and her gang. They had robbed a few stores, established a foothold in the city, and had even beaten back the local heroes. Then a bunch of children playing dress-up had to come along and ruin everything: attacking their hideout, swarming their victory feast with bugs, driving them out into the cold and rain. Needless to say, she was pissed.  
  
“ _Serves you right for choosing such an obvious hideout._ ” came the disembodied voice of the thirteen Butcher, whose undead consciousness haunted her every waking moment. “ _You’d never see me making that kind of mistake._ ”  
  
“ _If you thought as much, you should’ve said something earlier._ ” came the chiding voice of Bucher Eight.  
  
“ _Why? She wouldn’t have listened. She never listens to what I have to say.”_  
  
“ _To be fair,_ ” teased Nine, “ _If she respected your opinion, she’d’ve probably never killed you in the first place._ ”  
  
The living Butcher ignored her predecessors' bickering as she opened fire on the hound in front of her, wounding it but doing nothing to slow down its momentum. She teleported away, barely avoiding its snapping jaws.  
  
“ _Close one._ ” said Twelve, “ _Who knows what kind of diseases that thing has._ ”  
  
“ _Actually, they say most dogs have cleaner mouths than humans._ ” Eight pointed out.  
  
“ _That right there is not ‘most dogs’!_ ”  
  
Reappearing in a burst of fire, Butcher scanned the battlefield, looking for her target. She found her, standing on the very edge of the battlefield. The bug girl. She was the leader of the attackers, the one who contested the Teeth’s claim to the city, and most importantly, the one who had ruined their dinner. There would be a reckoning for that, Butcher promised.  
  
“ _Kill her!_ ” screeched the raspy voice of Four, “ _Rip her limbs from their sockets! Decorate the streets with her entrails!_ ”  
  
“ _Or…_ ” butted in Three, “ _And I’m just throwing this out there. What if we tried diplomacy again? You know, resolve this peacefully? Not leave a trail of blood and destruction like we always do?_ ”  
  
There was a moment of silence as several dead capes shook their nonexistent heads at the former hero.  
  
Butcher used that quiet to focus on the battle, dropping the gun and drawing her bow. It was the weapon she used before becoming the fourteenth Butcher. It also happened to synergize ridiculously well with the other Butchers’ powers.  
  
The bug girl seemed to know this, as the minute the bow came out, she jumped onto a nearby dog and began racing away.  
  
“ _Quick, shoot her!_ ” ordered Thirteen.  
  
“ _She’s already brought out the bow,_ ” said Twelve, “ _What else would she do, bake a cake?_ ”  
  
Drawing back her arm, Butcher prepared to fire, only for her danger sense to go off. She teleported away, just as the flash of a taser entered and left her vision. The enemy must have had a Stranger.  
  
Butcher teleported to the roof of a nearby building, her eye on the bug cape. The girl was no doubt using her power to coordinate her team. All Butcher needed to do was take her out, and the fight would be finished. Following the girl, she teleported from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance with each jump. Once in range, she knocked an arrow, pulling back the string with her tremendous strength. The girl seemed to have sensed this, as she urged her dog towards a street corner. Butcher grinned at the futile effort. There was no point in dodging. Once she picked a target, space itself would warp to allow her to hit it.  
  
“ _Five bucks says she offs the kid in one hit_.” Nine said.  
  
“ _Make it ten and you’re on_.” replied Twelve, “ _That dog-thing’s fast, and she’s been sloppy lately._ ”  
  
“ _Wait, what are you anteing?_ ” asked Eight, “ _You don’t have any money to bet._ ”  
  
“ _We were being facetious, fucknut._ ”  
  
Having lined up the perfect shot, Butcher loosed the arrow. It speared through the air, trailing the girl and her dog as they rounded the corner. Butcher followed, eager to see the killing blow. What she saw instead, however, was the arrow deflecting off a steel beam. The girl had leapt off her dog and taken cover inside a large metal structure.  
  
“ _What cowardice_.” scoffed Thirteen, “ _Abandoning her mount to hide in a radio tower._ ”  
  
“ _Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s a transmission tower._ ” said Eight.  
  
“ _What’s the difference?_ ”  
  
“ _Well, radio towers transmit radio waves. Transmission towers, or pylons, are used to transmit electricity, mainly through rural and suburban areas._ ”  
  
“ _It’s so hard to believe that someone had wanted to murder you._ ”  
  
Butcher teleported closer, unleashing one of her pain blasts. The bug girl staggered back, writhing in agony. She clung to the tower, too overcome with pain to move. Grinning, Butcher stalked forward. Battles between capes were one thing, but this little worm had pissed her off. Butcher had promised a reckoning, and now she would deliver.  
  
“ _Yes!_ ” cried Four, “ _Break her! End her! Tear her to bloody pieces!”_  
  
“ _Or, alternatively, we could restrain her nonlethally._ ” added Three, “ _Deliver her to the Protectorate for a fair trial. Not like we couldn’t use the good karma._ ”  
  
“ _Hey, guys, a thought occurs,_ ” said Twelve, as Butcher stepped into the tower. “ _If pylons are mostly used in rural areas, what’s one doing in the middle of the city?_ ”  
  
As if on cue, the seemingly incapacitated bug girl burst into motion, jumping away from Butcher and diving out of the tower. Butcher blinked in surprise, before running after her, hand extended. As she left the threshold of the tower, however, something strange happened.  
  
All of the sudden, her arm began to go numb and heavy. Butcher looked down, only to gape in shock. Her entire arm, from fingers to shoulder, had turned to metal. It was covered in studs and rivets, like the tower; and even with her enhanced strength, she could feel it weighing her down. She tried to flex her arm, wiggle her fingers, do anything; but the dull steel refused to move. Panicking, she looked up at the bug girl, standing calmly in front of her. This was her doing somehow.  
  
Twelve spoke up: “ _Wait, Fourteen, before you do anything drastic-_ ”  
  
Butcher teleported out of the tower and behind the girl, hoping to catch her in the blast. As she appeared, however, there was no burst of fire. She tried to look around, but found she couldn’t move her head. She couldn’t move anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see bits of her body. They were gray. She struggled, using all of her strength to move any part of herself, but it was no use. She’d been transformed head to toe, trapped in the same strange metal as the tower.  
  
“ _Well, that’s not good._ ” said Eight.  
  
Butcher concentrated, trying to use any of her powers. Super strength. Teleportation. Matter shifting. Even the agony wave. They did nothing. She was stuck there, still as a statue. She wanted to scream, to roar, to tear herself free of the steel prison; but all she could do was stand there, immobile, unable to look away from the tower in front of her.  
  
“ _Sooooo… What now?_ ” asked Nine.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
Three cleared his throat. “ _I spy with my little eye, something gray._ ”  
  
“ _Is it the sidewalk?_ ”  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
“ _The radio tower?_ ”  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
“ _The transmission tower_?”  
  
“ _Yes_.”  
  
“ _Fuck you._ ”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Butcher XIV  
  
Stand:「[Super Fly](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Super_Fly)」  
  
Status: Still Alive


	16. Outcast

I stood alone in the bathroom, juice and soda dripping off my face and staining my clothes. Beads of red, purple, and orange clung to my glasses, obscuring my vision. I wanted to scream.  
  
What had I done to deserve this? Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? How much longer was I going to have to live like this?  
  
I took a deep breath, counting down from ten. It was all I could do to stop myself from completely breaking down. Damage control: that’s what I had to focus on right now; not the ever growing temptation to simply lose it.  
  
Wiping the sticky liquid off my glasses, I saw that my clothes and hair were ruined. Even if I dried myself off with paper towels, the ugly multicolored splotches and sickly-sweet smell would follow me around the school. I couldn’t go to class like this.  
  
Class.  
  
With a groan, I remembered that art class was next period. Midterms were due, and circumstances had forced me to store my project in my backpack. The same backpack that was lying smashed and juice-stained on the floor.  
  
Without a shred of optimism, I unzipped the bag to see if the project had survived. It hadn’t. Wordlessly, I sank to the ground.  
  
“I give up.” I said, head buried in my hands. There was no point in trying anymore. I might as well go home.  
  
“ _Don’t give up._ ” came a voice, “ _That’s what they want._ ”  
  
I froze. Slowly, cautiously, I raised my head. The bathroom was empty. Lifting myself up, I staggered over and peeked into the stalls. No one was there. I must have been hearing things.  
  
With a long sigh, I trudged over to grab my backpack, dragging it up to the garbage can. The books inside were soiled beyond use; and my project was as good as destroyed. No point in carrying them around.  
  
“ _You worked so hard on that project. I’d be a shame to let it go to waste._ ”  
  
I whirled around. I’d definitely heard it this time. It was faint, on the very edges of my periphery, but it felt like it was speaking directly to me.  
  
“Hello?” I called out nervously. Seconds passed with no response. I glanced down at my open bag. The project was beyond saving, and I didn’t have the time to fix it even if it wasn’t.  
  
“ _You could always get an extension._ ” said the voice, gentle as if it were whispering in my ear, “ _Get a change of clothes from the lost and found, then explain to the teacher what happened. Worse thing they’ll say is no._ ”  
  
An extension? I supposed that was an option. I gave the ruined project a second look. If I was getting a zero anyway, what did I have to lose?  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Sophia sneered, tearing the box out of my hands. “Some kind of art project?”  
  
“Weren’t those due a week ago?” teased Madison, “Jeez, Taylor. Who knew you were so slow?”  
  
“Must suck being such a talentless loser.” Emma laughed, “Why does she even come to class?”  
  
It was just my luck that, after getting an extension and redoing the entire project, the trio would come around to ruin it. It’s what I got for trying to fight fate.  
  
I saw Mr. Gladly walk down the hall. He’d confronted me before about the bullying, but I’d turned him down. Now, taking in the scene of me and my three tormentors, he merely gave a sad look and kept walking. It seemed he was just like all the others, happy to watch my suffering but unwilling to do anything about it.  
  
“ _Oftentimes, the best way to get help is to ask for it_.” came the voice.  
  
It wouldn’t do any good. Gladly didn’t actually care about my problems. He just wanted to be seen as the “cool teacher”.  
  
“ _Everyone wants to be a good person, to feel like a hero. Sometimes they just need that little push_.”  
  
I frowned. Even if he wanted to help me, he could only do so during his class. The last thing I needed was to be seen as a teacher’s pet.  
  
“ _It might not solve all your problems, but it’s better than nothing. It’s not like you couldn’t use an advocate. One more person on your side._ ”  
  
I thought about it. At this point, there were very few ways my reputation could get worse. The least I could do was try.  
  
Swallowing my pride, I called out to the teacher. “Um, Excuse me? Mr. Gladly.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Principle Blackwell didn’t seem happy to see me. If I was being honest, I wasn’t particularly happy to see her either. I had to remind myself that she wasn’t the source of my problems, at least not directly. No, right now she was the solution. If I wanted out of this place, I’d need to rely on the same bureaucracy that had failed me before.  
  
“Thank you for coming to me, Miss Hebert.” said the Principle neutrally, “I understand that you’ve been having trouble with your classmates.”  
  
“If you by trouble you mean the rampant harassment I’ve been undergoing, then yes, I’ve been having a bit of trouble.”  
  
She gave me a look. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I can assure you we’re doing everything in our power to ensure a safe and healthy environment for learning.”  
  
She was lying through her teeth. Worse, she was daring me, a student, to call her, the Principle, out on it.  
  
“ _Don’t let her intimidate you._ ” the voice said, “ _Remember, she’s the one in the wrong here. She was supposed to protect you, and she failed. Don’t let her sweep this under the rug._ ”  
  
I chose my words carefully. “I… appreciate the efforts you are going through to help me; however, given my circumstances, I feel that I’m going to need a bit more than assurances.”  
  
Blackwell folded her hands. “Such as?”  
  
“Madison Clements, Sophia Hess, and Emma Barnes are the ones who’ve been bullying me the most. They’re responsible for the incident with the locker. I want them expelled.”  
  
The Principle narrowed her eyes. I worried for a second that I had overplayed my hand.  
  
“ _No, this is good. When bargaining, always ask for more than you want._ ”  
  
“While I can sympathize with your situation, Miss Hebert, I’m afraid that’s a bit extreme. I cannot expel three students just like that, especially without hearing their side of the story first.  
  
“ _Then why doesn’t she call them? And their guardians too?_ ”  
  
“So call them.” I repeated, “Contact their guardians, let them know what the three have been doing to me, and hold a conference to discuss punishment.”  
  
Her brow furrowed, like I had said something worrying. “Before taking things that far, I’d need proof of this alleged bullying.”  
  
“Of course.” I replied, sliding forward the binder. The record of the trio’s bullying. “I’ve been keeping track of everything Emma and her friends have been doing to me the past year or so. There are also notes they’ve left in my locker and printouts of emails they and their friends have been sending me.”  
  
She flipped through the binder skeptically. “Much of this is simply your account of what happened, not actual proof. And these letters and emails are all anonymous.”  
  
“If I may interject.” said Mr. Gladly, seated to the side, “I have personally witnessed those three students harassing Miss Hebert here. There have also been previous incidents: Schoolwork stolen, her desk vandalized. I can assure you that she is not making this up.”  
  
“I’ve been talking to the other students.” I added, “A number of them saw Sophia push me into the locker and are willing to come forward.”  
  
That was a lie, but one I knew the Principle couldn’t call me out on. Even if she knew that Emma had been pressuring others to stay silent about it, she couldn’t acknowledge as much without admitting that there was, in fact, a bullying campaign against me.  
  
“Even so, expulsion is a major matter. I can’t justify getting rid of three promising students, simply on the word of a few individuals.”  
  
“Fine.” I said, crossing my arms. Making it look like I was backing down. “If you won’t kick the three of them out of Winslow, then I want to be transferred somewhere else.” I gave a sigh and disappointed look, like I was making a major concession.  
  
“A transfer?” asked the Principle. “I’m afraid that’s not possible either. Busing laws restrict the distance a student can travel daily. The only other school in this district is Arcadia, which is overcrowded as it is.”  
  
“Can’t you make an exception? I’m fine going to a crowded school, just so long as it’s not here.”  
  
“It’s not that simple.” insisted Blackwell, “Arcadia has a massive waitlist. I can’t just push you to the front of the line. That wouldn’t be fair to the dozens of other students waiting to get in.”  
  
“Fair?” I balked, “Nothing about this is fair!”  
  
“ _Okay, dial it back there. You need to be calm. In control. The more reasonable you present yourself, the less she’ll be able to sweep your points aside._ ”  
  
I took a deep breath. “It’s not fair that I have to redo assignments, because my original work’s been stolen or destroyed. It’s not fair that I have to carry all my belongings to each and every class, because my locker’s been broken into so many times that I can’t rely on it. It’s not fair that I was hospitalized, and the ones responsible are allowed to go around scott-free. That I have to see them every day, enjoying their lives, while I still can’t go into enclosed spaces without having a panic attack. Maybe it’s not fair to those other kids, but they haven’t gone through what I have. Their welfare isn’t in danger.” I looked her in the eye, making sure she understood. “I am not safe here. These three girls, that you call promising, are a threat to my physical well-being. If you truly sympathize with my situation, then you should either get rid of the ones causing it or help me transfer somewhere they can’t get to me.”  
  
I could see the tension in her face as she considered this, weighing the options in her head. It wasn’t a little thing I was asking for, I realized that; but if the voice in my head was right, the effort involved in transferring me was worth ending this matter before it escalated. I sat there, patiently, as the Principle made her decision.  
  
Finally, she nodded her head.  
  
“You raise a fair point. I shall see what I can do.”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
I had an image in my head of what Arcadia High was like. Clean floors, quiet hallways, friendly faces. Turns out, it was as much of a nightmare as Winslow, albeit of a different variety. Blackwell wasn’t kidding about the place being overcrowded; it was chaos. The school had a Faraday cage built-in to block cell phone use. As a result, the lunch room was a cacophony of a hundred bored teenagers with nothing to do but talk over each other.  
  
I stood with my lunch tray in hand, agape at the sea of students in front of me. There were a number of tables with empty seats, but they were all otherwise occupied by what looked like groups of friends talking and joking with one another. There was nowhere I could sit without being the odd one out. I was considering adopting my old habit of eating in the bathroom, when the voice spoke up.  
  
“ _What are you worrying about? Just choose a seat and sit there._ ”  
  
It wasn’t that simple. I didn’t want to butt into someone else’s friend group uninvited. They’d think I was some kind of weirdo.  
  
“ _Under that logic, no one would ever talk to anyone. That’s how people make friends, by taking risks and putting themselves out there._ ”  
  
I couldn’t just walk up and talk to them. I didn’t even know them.  
  
“ _You’re the new girl. Of course you’re not going to know anyone. That’s all the better reason to go up and introduce yourself._ ”  
  
What if they didn’t like me? Or if we had nothing in common?  
  
“ _Then you find someone else to talk to. There’re plenty of options_.”  
  
I couldn’t do it. I’d spent too long without friends. I was too used to the trio turning people against me.  
  
“ _If you think like that, they win. The best revenge is a life well lived. If you really want to move on from Winslow, you’ll have to let go of the fears you had there. And the first step is right in front of you._ ”  
  
I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. Ignored the knots in my stomach.  
  
Straightening up, I smiled and walked towards a table.  
  
“Hey, my name’s Taylor. Mind if I sit here?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
I flopped back on my bed, letting the collection of college brochures fall to the floor. This was one of the biggest decisions of my life, and I felt woefully unprepared. My friends were all planning to study on the other side of the country or overseas. Anywhere that wasn’t Brockton Bay. I didn’t blame them. The villain presence had grown significantly over the past few years, and the heroes were just barely keeping things in line. As much as I loved this city, things weren’t getting better. This was as good a reason as any to leave.  
  
Except, there was my Dad to think about. This city was more than his home, it was his mission. He’d dedicated his life to fixing it, to making it a place worth living. He wouldn’t leave for anything save an Endbringer attack, if that. If I left Brockton Bay for good, that’d mean leaving him behind too. I wasn’t sure I could do that.  
  
“ _Children leave the nest, that’s just a part of growing up._ ” said the voice, “ _You’ve gotta do what’s right for you._ ”  
  
But what if my Dad needed me. The city was getting more dangerous by the day. He’d want me to be there to support him.  
  
“ _Your Dad also wants you to be happy. To have a bright and successful future. You’d be doing him a disservice by staying._ ”  
  
But what if I wasn’t happy in another city? What if the place I could do the most good was here?  
  
“ _Change can be scary, but it can bring a lot of good too. There’s a whole wide world out there, full of opportunity. You owe it to yourself to seize it._ ”  
  
I laid there in silence, my mind quiet. Minutes passed.  
  
“ _I can’t make the decision for you,_ ” the voice finally said, “ _I can only cheer you on. It’s your life, your choice; the only opinion that really matters is your own._ ”  
  
I nodded, slowly, and made my decision.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
I stood by the window, watching the golden light fill the sky above Brockton Bay. It was the end of the world. Despite the destruction that would follow, I found it oddly peaceful. Then, a voice:  
  
“ _I’m sorry, Taylor. I’ve got nothing._ ”  
  
I looked back at my shoulder. For the first time, I could see the being who’d been watching over me all these years. It was a small and metallic figure, like a little tin man, with green dreadlocks running down the back of it’s head.  
  
“ _We’re going to die. Both of us._ ” It began to shudder, “ _It’s-It’s all my fault. If I’d had more foresight, if I had seen this coming, I could have done something. I could have gotten us out of danger. Instead…_ ” It looked like it was about to cry “ _I’m sorry, Taylor. I’m so, so sorry._ ”  
  
I gently shushed it. “It’s okay.” I said, “You’ve done so much already.” I laid a hand on its quivering form. “You helped me when I really needed it, when no one else would. That means more than you could ever know.” I looked forward, towards the growing light. “Despite everything, I’ve had a good life. And if it has to end now, well, I consider myself lucky.”  
  
“ _Lucky_.” It repeated. “ _That’s a good word._ ”  
  
We stood there, two silhouettes in the morning light.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Hey Ya!](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Hey_Ya!)」  
  
Status: Lucky


	17. No Escape From Reality 4

Jonathan and I followed Danny as he sniffed his way down the hallways of Winslow. It was a frustratingly long process. The school was filled with hundreds of competing odors. The stench of sweaty, stressed-out students. Perfumes, deodorants, and colognes, meant to cover up that stench. The acrid miasma of low-quality floor cleaner. And wafting from the cafeteria, the unmistakable aroma of french bread pizza.  
  
It was enough to drive an ordinary dog mad. Still, Danny pressed dutifully onward, following his nose towards our target. Eventually, he stopped and pawed around at the closed door of a classroom. He sniffed at it for a few seconds, before barking up at Jonathan and I.   
  
“This must be the place.” I said, trying the door. It was locked. I briefly considered asking Jonathan to bust it in, when I heard a yell.  
  
“Hey!” called a nearby janitor, walking over from his cart, “You allowed to have that dog in here?”  
  
I looked down at Danny, panting happily, then back up at him. “Yes.”  
  
The janitor studied me a moment, then shrugged. “Alright. Just make sure it doesn’t leave a mess.” He started back towards his cart, when I called out to him.  
  
“Actually, could I ask a question? You haven’t happened to see anything weird around this room, have you? Like blood, perhaps?”  
  
The man stopped. “Blood, huh? I just finished cleaning a small splotch of blood from the carpet.”  
  
“ _This is it!_ ” I thought.  
  
“Do you know who it was that was bleeding?” asked Jonathan.  
  
“Can’t say. I was just called in to clean up the mess. You could ask the teacher, although…” he checked his watch, “It’s Friday, so she’s probably already left for the day. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine. Thank you for the help.” Jonathan smiled, blissfully unaware of what was at stake.” As the janitor walked off, he turned to me. “Well, it looks like a dead end. I suppose we’ll just have to wait until Monday.”  
  
“We don’t have time to wait.” I said, “If someone was bleeding, then there’s a chance they got some blood on the mask. And if they got blood on the mask…”  
  
“Why is it so important?” asked Jonathan. “It’s just a simple stone mask, isn’t it?”  
  
“If only.” I said, “From what I understand, the mask has some kind of strange power to it. Whoever puts it on, gets it bloody, turns into a vampire.”  
  
“A vampire?” gasped Jonathan, “Like from Dracula?”  
  
“Exactly like Dracula.” I replied, “Except they can’t turn into a bat. Or mist. And they don’t bite people. And they’re not harmed by crosses or garlic. And they don’t need to be invited into places. And they have no problem with running water.” I paused, “Now that I think about it, it isn’t much like Dracula at all.”  
  
“This is quite troubling.” Jonathan said, crossing his arms. He didn’t seem to doubt the outlandishness of my claims. It made sense, considering he was from a rather bizarre comic book himself. “Tell me, if they are immune to garlic and holy objects, how does one defeat these creatures?”  
  
I thought back to the book, of which I was only a few chapters in. “I mean, there’s sunlight…”   
  
“Sunlight, huh? I assume it weakens them?”  
  
“Turns them into dust.”  
  
“Really? I’ve never read any stories like that.”  
  
“This isn’t a story, Jonathan. We’re dealing with a real fictional vampire.” I had to stop myself from thinking too hard about what just came out of my mouth.  
  
The young man nodded. “Very well. I’ll trust your expertise. What’s our next step?”  
  
I crossed my arms, mimicking him. “Well, assuming they’ve already been turned, they won’t be able to go out into daylight. They’ll be trapped in the school until sundown. That means we have until then to find them.”  
  
“Then find them we shall!” Jonathan declared, resolute, “You can count on me. I swear on my life, I won’t let this monster escape!”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“Mom, I’m home!”  
  
The sun had long set by the time Greg returned home. He disliked staying at school any longer than he had to, but the tabletop club was that day and his Masquerade campaign wasn’t going to run itself. Closing the front door, he was painfully aware of how thirsty he felt. It was like he’d spent the day crawling through the desert tongue-first. He knew anxiety and public speaking could give you dry mouth, but this was ridiculous.  
  
He plodded into the kitchen and opened up the fridge.  
  
“Mom,” he called, “Do we have any soda left?”  
  
“No soda,” his mother called back from the living room, “The doctor says you need to cut back on caffeine. We have coconut water and tomato juice.”  
  
Greg grimaced, before taking a bottle of each and heading up to his room. He supposed it would have to do.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
The sun had long set by the time we gave up. Despite our best efforts, scouring the school room by room, we hadn’t been able to find anything even remotely supernatural. The most occult thing we’d stumbled upon was a group of students playing tabletop games, whose invitation to join I swiftly declined. As much as I would’ve loved to waste time playing pretend with Greg Veder, I had a vampire to find.  
  
“Do you think perhaps it destroyed itself?” asked Jonathan, after hours of fruitless search. “After all, sunlight is a hard thing to avoid. And if the vampire were turned to dust, there wouldn’t be much left to show for it.”  
  
“That’d certainly be a lucky break.” I replied, “Unfortunately, I doubt either of us have that kind of luck.”  
  
Jonathan gazed out a window at the rapidly darkening sky. “In that case, I fear we may be too late. The light of day has come and gone. If you’d prefer, Danny and I could keep searching through the night. We may just find a clue of some sort.”  
  
I shook my head. “No, that’d be too dangerous. For now, we should probably head home and-”  
  
Home. Goddammit. How was I supposed to explain this to my Dad? I wasn’t the type to bring friends home; especially not muscular guys a head taller than me. What was I supposed to do with him?  
  
“Are you alright?” he asked, “You looked perturbed.”  
  
“No, it’s just… I don’t know where you’re gonna sleep tonight. I’d offer to let you stay at my place but-”  
  
Jonathan put up his hands. “Oh, I could never impose like that. Besides, staying at a lady’s home overnight; that would be improper.”  
  
“I know. That’s why I’m not sure what to do.”  
  
“Couldn’t I just go back to my home?”  
  
I looked at him. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Why, you brought Danny and me here. It stands to reason that you could send us back just as easily.”  
  
I hadn’t thought of that. I supposed it was worth a shot.  
  
I held the book up toward the two of them.  
  
“Alright then.” I said, steadying myself. “You ready?”  
  
“And raring.” he replied eagerly.  
  
I closed my eyes, visualizing. I pictured Jonathan and Danny walking back into the book, becoming one with the page. I imagined them turning flat, like a painting; the colors and textures of their bodies shifting back into ink on paper. When I opened my eyes, they were gone.  
  
Turning the book over, seeing their pictures returned to the cover, I breathed out a sigh of relief. That was one problem solved. It seemed that whatever I brought out of the book, I could send back in. That would make dealing with Dio and the stone mask much easier. Still, even with that silver lining, I couldn’t rest easy. Because of me, there was a vampire loose in Brockton Bay. Unless I did something, there was no telling what havoc it could wreak.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
“Die monster. You don't belong in this world!”  
  
“It was not by my hand that I am once again given flesh. I was called here by humans who wish to pay me tribute.”  
  
Greg sat alone in his room, blinds drawn, his eyes glued to the screen. The net was abuzz about an old console game that fans had remastered, and he’d finally managed to get his hands on an English ROM. Stocking up on drinks and snacks, Greg had asked his mom not to disturb him for anything short of the house burning down. It was the weekend, and he was determined to beat the entire thing in that time, even if it meant not seeing a lick of daylight.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
The sun had long set by the time Dio and company finished shopping. The young man had lived among both the wealthy and poor, yet never in his life had he seen someone purchase so much in so little time. This must’ve truly been an advanced world for people to consume so conspicuously. Between the automobiles and mobile telephones, Dio felt rather out of his depth.  
  
It was only as the three retired to Emma’s living room that Dio spotted a piece of technology he actually recognized. As the two girls compared purchases, he stepped over to examine what looked like a stylized phonograph.  
  
“What is this device?” he asked, studying it idly.  
  
Emma glanced over. “Oh, that’s my dad’s record player. He’s really into old-people music.” she nodded to a shelf of rectangular sleeves, “Mom and I had to actually threaten him to take this ugly Black Sabbath poster down.”  
  
Dio pulled out one of the cardboard jackets. “ _Holy Diver_.” he read out loud, “What an odd name.” He turned to the record player, then to Emma. “May I?”  
  
She shrugged. “Go ahead. Just don’t ask me how it works.”  
  
The two girls watched with amusement as he struggled to operate the archaic device, awkwardly fiddling with the disc, nobs, and needle. Finally, after much trial and error, the strong, steady beat of guitar filled the room. Satisfied with his victory over technology, Dio eased himself back into the couch.  
  
“So,” he drawled, letting the music waft over him, “What’s next? “What manner of frivolous recreation is on the itinerary?”  
  
“No itinerary, dude.” Sophia yawned, stretching, “We’re just hanging out.”  
  
“Hanging out.” Dio ran his tongue over the word like it was some exotic fruit, “And what does that entail?”  
  
“Aside from this? TV, gossip, thinking of ways to torment Taylor.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
Emma gave him a look. “Taylor Hebert.”  
  
“Skinny, curly hair, glasses.” Sophia added.  
  
Dio stared at them blankly.  
  
“You made out with her in the library.”  
  
“Ah, lasagna-breath.” Dio nodded, remembering the whelp of a girl who dared talk down to him, “I would not object to knocking her down a peg. Have you considered spreading hurtful lies and rumours about her? Isolating her from her peers and leaving her a friendless wreck.”  
  
Emma rolled her eyes. “Been there, done that.”  
  
“Hmm. Have you tried setting her dog on fire?”  
  
“She doesn’t have a dog. And we’re not torturing an animal just to make someone feel bad.”  
  
“It works wonders, I assure you. Still, how about this? Contrive a way to insert yourself into her family, then slowly poison her father over a period of years so that you can inherit his fortune.”  
  
“First off,” said Sophia, “Taylor and her family are poor. Second, in a few years we’ll all be in college, so that timeframe doesn’t work out.”  
  
“Also, we’re not going to kill people.” added Emma, giving her friend a pointed look.  
  
Sophia shrugged, “Sure, that too. I’m gonna be honest here, Dio. Your pranks all kind of suck.”  
  
The young man huffed, “I don’t see either of you coming up with ideas.”  
  
“We’ve already come up with plenty.”  
  
“Like what?” Dio smirked, “Stealing her dolls? Tying her bootlaces together?”  
  
“Well,” said Emma, “Last spring we filled her locker with trash and used menstrual products, then trapped her inside for a couple of hours.”  
  
Dio’s grin vanished. He stared at the two of them. “What the fuck is wrong with you girls?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Bohemian Rhapsody](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Bohemian_Rhapsody)」  
  
Status: Still Pretty Concerned


	18. Stray Catastrophe

Blasto stepped carefully through the remains of his lab, searching for anything salvageable.  
  
“Fucking Nazis.” he growled, picking through smashed boxes and shattered glassware. The Empire Eighty-Eight had arrived in Boston just a week ago, and already they were making themselves a nuisance, encroaching on Blasto’s turf and threatening his operations. He’d managed to chase them off with his creations, but not before they trashed his laboratory.  
  
Still, it wasn’t a total loss. The Tinker gave a sidelong look to the slime-filled tank across the room. His creatures had managed to sink their claws into one of the invading capes. An aerokinetic named Storm- something or other. Blasto had combined the obtained flesh sample with his seeds, using as a base the body of a stray cat caught in the crossfire. The resulting hybrid was well on its way to completion, only needing a few more minutes for conditioning. He couldn’t wait to see the look on those goose-stepping thugs’ faces as he hit them with their own powers.  
  
Shoving aside some rubble, Blasto was pleased to see his floor safe had survived. Its contents were precious; he’d be devastated if they were destroyed. Reaching for the padlock, he put in the combination.  
  
4 to the right.  
  
2 to the left.  
  
0 to the right.  
  
With a click, the door swung open.  
  
Inside was a plastic bag, filled to the brim with dark green buds. Blasto eyes went to the sharpied-on label. Hierophant Green. A new blend from overseas, according to his dealer.   
  
It irked Blasto that between vine monsters and plant clones, his power couldn’t help him grow new strains of weed. His agent must’ve considered getting stoned counterintuitive to cape fighting.  
  
Still, he’d worked hard today. No harm in a little hit. Rolling the buds into a joint, he lit the end and raised it to his mouth. Before he could enjoy the green, green grass of home, however, there was a knock at the back door.  
  
There was a creak, followed by footsteps; and Blasto turned just as a high-pitched voice filled the room:   
  
“Wow, what a mess!”   
  
A little girl? What was she doing-   
  
Shit  
  
Strolling into the room, smiling innocently, was Bonesaw of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Her hands were stained with blood, long dried, and behind her was a pale woman with white hair and elongated fingers.  
  
“Hi there!” the tiny serial killer greeted, “You must be Blasto.”  
  
He nodded, “And you must be Bonesaw.”  
  
Though he spoke slowly, his thoughts were racing. How did they get in here? He’d put all his active creations on guard duty after that last attack. That was when he noticed the bits of plant matter staining the pale woman’s dress.  
  
Fuck  
  
“Sorry to drop in unannounced.” Bonesaw grinned, glancing around his lab, “I bet you’re wondering what we’re doing here.”   
  
There weren’t many options. They were either here to kill him or recruit him into their group. He honestly wasn’t sure which would be worse.  
  
“Sightseeing?” he meekly suggested.  
  
The girl cocked her head, “Hmm, in a manner of speaking. You see, my new friend Damsel,” she gestured to the pale woman, “Had some old business she wanted to take care of in Boston. And I figured, while we were here, I might as well check out the local Tinkers.”   
  
“How nice.” Blasto replied, laughing nervously, “Well, feel free to look around. _Mi casa es tu casa_.”  
  
He inched slowly, ever so slowly, towards his munitions cache. Weapons weren’t his forte, but he’d been experimenting with different types of plant-based explosives: Cotton spore smoke bombs. Poison thorn frag grenades. Things that would be useful in an emergency. Such as this.  
  
Before he could reach it, however, the woman called Damsel stepped into his path. She glared at him menacingly, a look of anger clear on her face. He took a hasty step back, only for her to step forward and close the distance.  
  
“Uh.” he began.  
  
“Oh, don’t mind her.” Bonesaw said, walking idly through the lab. “She gets bit grumpy around new people. Ooh! What’s this?” She gestured at the cloning tank.  
  
“Wait, don’t touch that!” Blasto shouted.  
  
But it was too late. Bonesaw had already flipped the activating switch. There was a series of beeps, followed by a squelching sound as the green slime drained from the tank, its occupant’s form beginning to take shape.  
  
“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Bonesaw, hands on her cheeks, “It’s- It’s-”  
  
There was a loud meowing sound.  
  
“A kitty!”  
  
Blasto paused in confusion, before straining his eyes to look at his newest creation. Sure enough, it resembled a cat, albeit one made of plants. A thick stem formed its body, with large leaves acting as its arms and legs. It’s head was a flower, grey petals curving up like ears and stamen sticking out like whiskers. It pawed at the glass tank and meowed.  
  
“Huh.” uttered Blasto. This was not what he was expecting.  
  
“Aww. He’s so cute!” Bonesaw gushed, tapping at the glass. The cat’s ears twitched with each tap, it’s ears no doubt sensitive to the noise. It began yowling at her, back arched; but the girl was too enthralled with its cuteness to care.   
  
As the tapping continued, the cat’s petals curled together, like a rose yet to bloom. There was a crack, and a burst of air shot out of the tank. The glass of the tank cracked and fell to pieces, as something small was whipped into the air, flying to land at Blasto’s feet. He glanced down.  
  
It was a finger.  
  
“Yikes!” cried Bonesaw, holding up the bloody stump where her index finger used to be, “How’d that happen?”  
  
Blasto stood there, mouth agape. That shouldn’t have happened. His creations were only supposed to attack at his command, responding to his special pheromones. Except this one was released early, he realized. It hadn’t been properly conditioned. He couldn’t control it.  
  
Damsel seemed to have traced the source of the attack, as she raised her long, spidery fingers towards the cat.  
  
“Wait, wait.” commanded Bonesaw, “I’ve got this.” She rooted around in her pockets for a moment, before finally producing what looked like a child’s finger. She jammed it on the stump, small wires knitting the wound closed, and after a few seconds it seemed to stick.  
  
“There we go.” she said, opening and closing her hand a few times. “No harm done.” Lightning quick, she scooped up the cat from the shattered remains of the tank. “Good kitty.”  
  
The plant/cat hybrid writhed in her arms, flailing this way and that. Blasto wasn’t sure, but it almost looked like it was straining towards him.  
  
“Now, now; stop struggling.” she said cheerfully as it clawed at her face, “I just want to cuddle you.” She turned toward her companion, “A little help, Damsel?”  
  
The pale woman shifted her attention from Blasto and stalked over. As she did so, a small bubble appeared under her skin, slowly traveling up her arm. It was only as she reached out for the cat that it burst, sending her arm careening to the side in a spray of blood. Her fingers jerked involuntarily, a surge of energy blasting out. The cat managed to leap out of the way, landing on a nearby table. Bonesaw was not so lucky.  
  
Where the mad Tinker once stood, there was now just a tiny pair of blood-stained shoes, a little bit of ankle poking out.  
  
Damsel stared at her hand, then at the remains of her teammate, then back at her hand. As the shock wore off, the anger and tension in her expression seemed to disappear. She flexed her fingers experimentally, then glanced around at her surroundings, barely sparing Blasto a second look. Her arm still bleeding, she straightened her back, dusted off her clothes, then strode out of the lab in a strangely imperious manner.  
  
Blasto was about the follow her lead when the green cat crossed his path. Before he could react, it leapt up and jumped into his arms. He froze, just waiting for it to blow his head off. Instead, however, it began purring, rubbing its head into his arm. It stretched its neck stalk and began sniffing at his hand, the same hand that held the still smoking joint.  
  
Curious, Blasto leaned forward and took a whiff, detecting the distinctive scent of _Nepeta cataria_.  
  
“ _Motherfucker_.” he thought.  
  
His dealer had sold him catnip.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Stray Cat  
  
Stand:「[Stray Cat](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Stray_Cat)」  
  
Status: Stray Cat


	19. Lockdown

Lights flashed and alarms blared as Contessa jogged through the battle-scarred halls of the Cauldron facility. She didn’t bother to brush the dirt off her suit. The stench of magma still burned her nostrils, but she ignored it. Her sole focus was finding the Doctor. The last Contessa checked, the director of Cauldron was holed up in her office, managing the effort against Scion. Said office was currently shrouded in Mantellem’s power.  
  
The Irregulars’ attack had come out of nowhere, the manta-like deviant’s ability blocking off Path to Victory like an impenetrable fog. All Contessa could do was speculate, model probable scenarios based on what little she knew. Her power had her running to the closest elevator, forcing open the doors to reveal the empty shaft. Whipping out her handkerchief, she wrapped it around one of the cables and jumped, sliding recklessly down to the bowels of the facility. Drawing a pistol with her free hand, she fired three shots, blasting loose the metal grate covering a ventilation shaft below. Pivoting, she kicked against the wall just the right way to transfer her downward momentum horizontal, sliding into the newly opened vent.  
  
Taking but a moment to recover, Contessa flipped around and began crawling through the vents. The Doctor’s office was still hidden from the path, but luckily she didn’t need it to get there. She’d taken care to memorize the ins and outs of the entire complex, including the vent layout. As she made her way towards the fog-veiled room, Contessa worked her power into overtime, visualizing different potential scenarios and working out how to resolve each. There was no telling what she’d find in there, so she had to be ready for everything.  
  
Soon enough, she could see the edge of the aura. It wasn’t a physical barrier, but rather an invisible wall, behind which the path was nonexistent. There was no guarantee of safety behind that wall. Inside she’d be vulnerable. Mortal. A regular person, with only her skills and experience to rely on. Even so, she pressed on, passing through the threshold into the fog.  
  
In an instant, everything changed. She was alone, the guiding presence she’d relied on most of her life gone. There were no steps, no omnipotent whispers assuring victory. She was blind. The emptiness shook her, ever so slightly, but she overcame it as she took the final turn that would lead her into the Director’s office.  
  
Below, there was the sound of voices. Angry voices. Peering down through a grate, Contessa saw a peculiar sight. In the center of the room stood Weld, leader of the Irregulars, his metallic body covered in blades, spikes, and a girl made of tentacles. A dozen or so of his companions stood at his side, shoulder to shoulder like a wall. Standing against them, were the rest of the Irregulars, angry and riled up like a mob. It was only as Weld stepped forward, sword-arm out, that Contessa could make out the form of Doctor Mother behind him. She was facedown on the ground, seemingly incapacitated; though as far as Contessa could tell, still alive.  
  
“Please, everyone, stand down.” Weld spoke out, “This is going too far. We only came here to talk.”  
  
“That’s what you came for.” answered a giant girl with an overbite, “The rest of us want payback. _That_ woman stole our lives from us, the least we can do is return the favor. Now step aside.”  
  
“You know I can’t do that, Gully. It would go against everything we stand for. I formed the Irregulars to prove to the world that we are more than the monsters it sees us as. Do you really want to throw that all away?”  
  
“The world’s gone, Weld.” answered a crimson-skinned boy, “None of us are making it out of this alive. We deserve some justice before the end.”  
  
“This isn’t justice.” Weld stated firmly, “It’s revenge; senseless, bloody revenge; and I won’t be a part of it.”  
  
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” said a manta-ray like cape, stepping to the front. “It’s disappointing hearing you say that.”  
  
Weld put up a hand. “Mantellum, don’t!”  
  
“We had so much faith in you, Weld.” the deviant continued, “After everything we’ve suffered through, after all the pain and ridicule, we’d thought you’d be on our side in this. Instead you stand there, weapon raised, defending the woman who ruined us. It’s heartbreaking, really; that after all your speeches and promises, you’d choose her over us.”  
  
A look of guilt passed over Weld’s steely face, and as that happened, a large ethereal padlock sprouted out of his chest. He gaped at it in alarm, before stumbling back and forth, the weight of it pulling him down. He struggled to stay upright, the tentacle girl cheering him on, but his top-heavy body began to buckle and he was soon forced to his knees. The Irregulars beside him took that as a sign to attack, charging forward against the mob almost four times their number.  
  
Contessa didn’t need her power to know that this was the time to strike. As the room was consumed in chaos, she dove out of her hiding place, edging around the fight to where the Doctor lay prone on the floor. It was only as she approached that she noticed the same giant lock jutting out of the Doctor’s chest, easily twice the size of Weld’s.  
  
“I’m here.” she whispered to her longtime companion, grabbing her by the arm. “We’re leaving.”  
  
“Wait.” said Doctor Mother, just as a cry rang out from the mob.  
  
“It’s the bogeyman! She’s still alive!”  
  
A dozen angry faces turned towards the two of them, and Contessa struggled to get the Doctor to her feet. It was no use. The lock in the older woman’s chest refused to move, its weight pinning her to the ground. Contessa had only a moment to digest this before she was forced to jump away, a purplish beam of light tearing through the space she’d been standing seconds before.  
  
Darting away, she turned to face Weld. Their eyes met, and she mouthed: “Give me a lift.”  
  
He gave the most imperceptible of nods and she dashed towards him, using his shoulder like a springboard as she leapt up towards the air duct.  
  
“Don’t let her get away!” one of the capes shouted as a spikes, bullets, and globs of slime flew past her. Still, she just managed to grab onto the edge of the duct, just as the click of a lock filled her ears.  
  
She felt the restricting presence set in, the same intangible lock growing from her chest.  
  
“There’s no escape now.” declared Mantellum, standing directly below her. “Maybe now you’ll know a fraction of the pain you’ve inflicted on others.”  
  
Contessa looked down at the deviant and said five words.  
  
Then she let go.  
  
Plummeting down into mob of murderous capes, Contessa closed her eyes and began to think.  
  
She thought of every person she’d ever hurt. Every test subject destroyed by their own power. Every friend lied to and betrayed. Every criminal funded, conflict stoked, and monster released into the world. She thought of innocent people sacrificed, lives spent like coin for the greater good. She thought of her uncle, abandoned with barely a thought for a reason he’d never understand. She thought of how disappointed he’d be to see the monster she’d become.  
  
The memories hurt, worse than any injury she’d ever received in battle. Still, Contessa didn’t shy away from the pain. She immersed herself in it, allowing her long stifled emotions to run free. As she let the guilt and regret consume her, she could feel the weight in her chest grow, the lock feeding on her sins. She had plenty to spare.  
  
There was a moment, as Contessa was in free fall, that Mantellum heard the words she had spoken to him. Just five words.  
  
“Do you believe in gravity?”  
  
Contessa fell into his grasp, then kept falling.  
  
There was a splat, then a crash; and when the dust cleared, Contessa and Mantellum were gone. All that remained was a peculiar manta ray-shaped hole in the floor.  
  
There were a few terse seconds, as the crowd of capes stood in uncertainty. Then, movement. Slowly, with the difficulty of someone with several broken bones, Contessa climbed out of the hole: her suit torn, her face bloody, and the lock gone. One of the hostile capes began to speak up, and she shot him in the throat. The rest stayed silent. Calmly, she limped over to Weld, whose lock had also disappeared.  
  
“Can you move?” she asked, helping him to his feet.  
  
“Yeah.” he replied, still somewhat in shock.  
  
“Good.” she said, “Get out.” She made a weak gesture with the thumb that was still bending the right way.  
  
Weld looked like he was about the protest, then immediately thought better of it. His body was nigh indestructible, and even then he sure that, even in this state, she could end him with barely a thought.  
  
Nodding to the other Irregulars, loyal and otherwise, Weld made his way to the exit. The others soon followed, no doubt deciding to quit while they were behind.  
  
Contessa watched them leave, before staggering over to the Doctor’s side.  
  
“Very well done.” Doctor Mother said, “That’s one less distraction to deal with.”  
  
Contessa nodded for a moment, then spoke: “Hey. Are we bad people?”  
  
The other woman frowned. “Well, good and bad are highly subjective. And in the grand scheme of things…” She trailed off as she saw the look Contessa was giving her. “Yes. We are very bad people.”  
  
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Contessa replied.  
  
Then she passed out.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Mantellum  
  
Stand:「[The Lock](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/The_Lock)」  
  
Status: Flat


	20. No Escape From Reality 5

“I need your help.”  
  
Jonathan and I turned in surprise.  
  
It was Monday morning, and I had just re-summoned Jonathan to help with the search, when Madison Clements, of all people, came up to us.  
  
“What is wrong?” asked Jonathan, gallant as always.  
  
“It’s Dio.” said Madison, “He has to be stopped.”  
  
Shit, Dio. I’d been so wrapped up in the vampire hunt, I’d forgotten about him. My mind instantly went to the comic, to the image of him slipping on the stone mask, rejecting his humanity. Was he the one that found the mask? Was reality mimicking the story?  
  
“What has he done?” Jonathan asked, a burning intensity in his eyes, “Has he hurt someone?”  
  
“Worse!” said Madison, “He’s become more popular than me!”  
  
I looked at her. “And?”  
  
“Don’t you get it? Just a few days ago he was futzing around with nobodies like you. Then he traded up and started hanging with cool people like us. Next thing you know, he’s all but replaced me in our friend group. If this trend keeps up, pretty soon he’ll be more popular either than Emma or Sophia. The Winslow hierarchy will collapse and he’ll be unstoppable!”  
  
I stared at her, idly wondering if this was what the world was like in her head. It made me feel a little less bad about being a social pariah.  
  
“What do you want us to do?” asked Jonathan.  
  
“Help me take him down! You’re his ex, right? Surely you must have some dirt on him.”  
  
Jonathan looked confused. “I beg your pardon? His ‘X’?”  
  
“He’s always talking trash about you, rambling about how he’s better off without you. I figured you two used to be an item.”  
  
“An item of what?”  
  
“It’s not like that at all.” I cut in, “Their relationship is… complicated. They’re brothers, kind of. I mean, not blood related, but...”  
  
Madison covered her mouth. “Oh my, a forbidden love. How taboo.”  
  
“I’m not sure what you both are talking about,” Jonathan spoke up, “But I can assure you that there is no love shared between Dio and I. He has too often tried to dominate me.”  
  
Madison raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, I see.”  
  
“I don’t think you do.” I replied, dismally wondering if it was too late to abort this conversation.  
  
Still, disturbing fantasies aside, she had a point. It had been careless of me to allow someone like Dio Brando to roam free in Brockton Bay. Who knew what kind of trouble he could cause in the real world, especially under the influence of Emma and company.  
  
I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. In an instant, the doors burst open and a hush fell over the hall.  
  
Time slowed to a halt as Dio entered the building. His blonde hair was gelled and spiked back, while his lips were painted a sinful dark green. His belt, decorated with hearts of the same emerald color, held up a pair of voluminous golden pants. And wrapped around his chest, leaving not a thing to the imagination, was a tight black tank top printed with the words: Queen Bee.  
  
A feeling of horror rose up in my chest as I realized I was too late. Emma had corrupted him. He was one of _them_ now.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Dio took in the aura of pure awe that greeted his entrance. The young men and women of Winslow stared at him in amazement, both longing and reverence clear on their faces. They were right to stare. How often did true perfection grace their dismal little academy?  
  
Dio strode loftily through the halls, basking in the attention, only to halt as a heavy-set girl stopped by her locker, blocking his path.  
  
“Out of the way, road roller!” Dio barked, “Seriously, how much bread have you eaten in your life?”  
  
The girl gave a hurt look before scampering away.  
  
Dio grinned, the satisfaction unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He knew what it was like to be admired, as well as what it meant to be feared. But to experience them together, to be both terror and idol at once, was a sensation like no other. He wondered if this was how God felt, to have such power over the hearts of others.  
  
Truly he was the pinnacle of humanity. Nothing could knock him off his pedestal.  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
It was raining Monday morning, the sky completely overcast. Greg Veder, groggy from a long night of gaming, trudged to school under the shade of his umbrella. It was a large golf umbrella, the kind meant to be shared by two or three people. He’d bought it just for that reason; but sadly, none of the girls at school ever took him up on his kind offers to walk them home.  
  
In his free hand was an open bottle of tomato juice. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d been craving the stuff like crazy. It didn’t quite sate the overwhelming thirst he’d developed, nor quell the slight pressure that‘d been building in the back of his head, but it was better than nothing.  
  
Ducking out of the rain into the warm interior of the school, Greg shifted the bottle into the crook of his arm before attempting the arduous process of collapsing his large umbrella. Using both his hands, he fiddled with the cumbersome device, completely unaware of his surroundings.  
  
He made it about ten steps before crashing into someone, the tomato juice flying out of his hand.  
  
Greg heard a splash, then looked up to see the ridiculously buff guy towering over him, thick red liquid covering his face and soaking into his spiky blonde hair.  
  
“Who _fucking_ dares.” growled the young man, wiping the juice out of his eyes and glaring down at Greg.  
  
“I’m sorry!” yelped Greg, “It was an accident.”  
  
“An accident? You call that an excuse for soiling my immaculate visage?” He grabbed Greg by the collar and shoved him against the wall of lockers, “Pathetic.”  
  
Greg could feel the grip around his collarbone growing tighter. “Wait, please. I didn’t mean it!” he pleaded, staring into the eyes of the other boy, searching for a single speck of mercy. There was none, only a rage and disgust that defied reason.  
  
“Like I give a damn about your intentions. Clumsy fools like you ought to be made an example off.”  
  
Greg could feel it. The room spinning. The walls closing in. The pressure in his head growing louder and louder. The other students in the hall made no moves to help him, averting their eyes and hurrying off to class.  
  
He sobbed. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”  
  
His heart pounded. His vision dimmed. Was he going to die?  
  
“I’m so… so…”  
  
It all went red.  
  
“THIRSTY!”  
  
A burst of strength filled his arms, and he found them shooting out towards the larger boy’s neck, his fingers plunging into the flesh of the throat. There was a feeling of sucking, of drinking, and it was glorious. All the pain and confusion melted away, his body filling with energy and his head with euphoria. It was the ultimate sugar rush, like a lifetime’s worth of energy drinks collapsed into a singular moment. Greg didn’t know what was going on; just that he never wanted it to stop.  
  
Then it stopped.  
  
Greg stood there, blinking. His assailant was gone, empty air where he’d been moments before.  
  
There was a voice, “Greg!”, and he turned to see his friend Taylor standing there.  
  
“Oh, hey Taylor.” he said, somewhat dazed, “How was your weekend?”  
  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
I saw Dio grab Greg and shove him against the lockers. Barely thinking, I broke out into a run. To think that, after all this time harassed by bullies, I’d inadvertently created the biggest bully of them all. From the look of things, Greg had spilled some sort of drink on Dio, the crimson fluid streaming down his neck. It brought to mind all sorts of unpleasant imagery.  
  
Before I could reach the two of them, however, something unexpected happened. Greg lashed out like a cobra, sinking his fingers into Dio’s throat. Dio’s glare turned to a look of fear and surprise as pulsing veins creeped up his face. I’d seen this before.  
  
Not hesitating a second, I shut my eyes and focused as hard as I could on the image of Dio disappearing, evaporating like a cloud of smoke and flying back into the comic. When I opened my eyes, Dio Brando was gone, banished back to whence he came. Hopefully without any permanent damage to him or the story.  
  
Greg was left standing there, blinking in astonishment.  
  
I yelled. “Greg!”  
  
He turned, as if in a daze. “Oh, hey Taylor.” he said, hands still bloody, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that he’d almost killed someone, “How was your weekend?” He turned to approach me.  
  
“Don’t move!” I said, taking a step back. “Just stay there for a second.”  
  
“Um, okay.” he replied in apparent confusion.  
  
I thought for a moment. “Greg, open your mouth.”  
  
“My mouth? Why?”  
  
“Just do it.” I ordered.  
  
“Alright.” he complied, opening wide enough for me to see his teeth. There were fangs.  
  
“Damn it, Greg!” I gestured to his face. “You put on the mask.”  
  
“Uh, maybe? Which mask?”  
  
“The stone one!”  
  
“Oh, that one.” he gave a guilty look, “Sorry, I didn’t realize it belonged to anyone; I just kind of found it in the library.”  
  
“Listen, that’s not an ordinary mask. I know this sounds crazy, but it's got some kind of weird power.”  
  
He tilted his head. “Like Tinkertech?”  
  
“Weirder. It...” I hesitated, uncertain of whether to tell him the truth. I wasn’t sure he’d believe me; I barely believed it myself. No, I couldn’t think like that. The book. The mask. They were my responsibility. Even if he thought I was insane, Greg deserved to know what was happening to him. “It turns people into vampires.” I finally said.  
  
“Seriously?” his eyes lit up, “That’s so cool!”  
  
“No, it’s not cool, Greg.” I snapped, “Anyone who puts on the mask turns into a bloodthirsty monster. Even normally decent people end up slaughtering their friends and family.”  
  
“Oh.” His face fell. “That’s not good.”  
  
It most certainly wasn’t. I’d taken the time over the weekend to read through the rest of the story. And while it had a lot to say about killing vampires, it never showed how to turn them back. I could return the mask back to its home, but there was no guarantee that would erase its effects.  
  
“Wait, the mask!” I realized, “Do you still have it?”  
  
“Sure.” he said, zipping open his bag, “It’s right here.”  
  
The second he pulled it out, I swiped it from his hands, taking a moment to concentrate as I held it to the book. Just like with Dio, I imagined it zapping back into the comic. Sure enough, once I regained focus, the mask was gone. Flipping to the cover, I saw that it had returned.  
  
I let out a sigh of relief. That was one less problem to deal with.  
  
“Wow!” exclaimed Greg, looking between the book and I, “How’d you do that?”  
  
“Magic” I answered bluntly, not even sure if it was a lie.  
  
“Wait a minute.” Greg crossed his arms. “Vampires. Stone masks. Weird powers. Ridiculously buff guys. This is just like… like…”  
  
He snapped his fingers.  
  
“Castlevania!”  
  
“I don’t know what that is, but sure.”  
  
“Is there anyone else that can do stuff like this?”  
  
I was about to answer, when a voice rang out.  
  
“Excuse me!” exclaimed Madison stomping over, “What the fuck was that? What happened to Dio? Why’s Veder here covered in blood?”  
  
“Actually, I think like half of this is tomato juice.” noted Greg.  
  
“Look, this is a lot to take in, but just bare with me.” I said to the two of them,  
“Dio is a comic book character from 19th century Britain that I’d brought into reality with a magic book; and I just sent him back along with the magic mask I’d also accidentally summoned so that neither he nor it could cause any more havoc in the real world.”  
  
“Also, I’m a vampire now.” Greg added.  
  
Madison gave him a look. “A vampire.”  
  
“I know,” said Greg, “I’m just as surprised as you.”  
  
“You mean like in-”  
  
“No! No more references.” I interrupted, “These aren’t like the vampires in whatever books or movies you’ve seen. They’re weird finger-sucking, zombie-raising, flamboyantly posing vampires that have ice powers and can shoot lasers from their eyes. And no, I am making none of that up.”  
  
“And this all just happened now?” asked Madison, “In the five minutes I was grilling Jojo here.”  
  
“Technically,” said Jonathan, catching up to the rest of us, “I believe the mask was summoned last Friday. Unless I’m mistaken.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s when I put it on.” confirmed Greg.  
  
“So, wait.” said Madison, “You’re telling me that you have been a vampire for 72 hours, and you’ve only just realized it now?”  
  
“Huh. Well, when you say it like that, it sounds kind of pathetic.”  
  
“You seem to be taking this all in stride, young lady.” praised Jonathan, “I for one was rather put off by all of this initially.”  
  
“Honestly, this isn’t much different from a mang-” she gave a sudden cough, “Er, from a rom-com I saw once. In a theater. With my friends.”  
  
“That’s nice.” I said, “Though, again, not really applicable. These aren’t your mainstream vampires.”  
  
“Fine.” she huffed, “If you’re such the expert, how do you turn him back? This school has enough bloodsuckers.”  
  
“I’m not sure.” I admitted, “I’ve read through the entire book, but it doesn’t say anything about a cure.”  
  
“Well, are there more books?” asked Greg, “Maybe the author wrote a sequel.”  
  
“I don’t know, the story ends rather conclusively, the protagonist and main villain dying together on an exploding ship. Can’t really imagine where it goes from there.”  
  
“Who was the protagonist?” asked Jonathan.  
  
I hesitated. “Oh, uh, no one you’ve met.” I gave him an uneasy smile.  
  
He nodded. “Well, whatever the case, it can’t hurt to look. Who knows, we might find something else that could help us. Something even more bizarre than vampires and stone masks.”  
  
I doubted that, but there was no need to quash his enthusiasm. Book in hand, I led the three of them back to its source. The office of my Japanese teacher. After a few knocks, the door opened and we were greeted by a young-looking Asian man in a fine grey sweater.  
  
“Ah, hello Taylor.” he greeted me with a smile, “Did we have an appointment this morning? Sorry, I must have forgot.”  
  
I shook my head and held up the comic, Jonathan still missing from the cover.  
  
“ _Araki-sensei_ , we need more books.”  
  
⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂ - ⁂  
  
Name: Taylor Hebert  
  
Stand:「[Bohemian Rhapsody](https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Bohemian_Rhapsody)」  
  
Status: Confused Again


End file.
